Red Lips
by TitansGirl
Summary: He was her savior. Her lover. Her darling monster. The disappearance of him from her life would cause a wave of devistation for all of Gotham, and Harley swore she would be the one to get the last laugh. Joker/Harley, multi-chapter.
1. The Catalyst

**A/N: **What better way than coming in with a bang from my favorite hench-wench? :D

Reviews would be magnificent, if ya' feel so inclined. Please enjoy. :3

* * *

_The lights are on but you're not home  
Your mind is not your own  
Your heart sweats, your body shakes  
Another kiss is what it takes  
_

* * *

The curve of his lips were colored a sickening shade of crimson much brighter than usual. The red continued to streak from the corners of his mouth, dribbles of blood streaking his chin. There were lines revealing his pale skin where the ghostly white grease paint had worn away. Clammy perspiration still remained on his skin.

Harley Quinn stood above the man with an unreadable expression on her heart-shaped face. Her blue eyes were wide and her lips remained pursed into a tight 'o', puckering wrinkles into her unblemished skin. She remained frozen, struck motionless by fear and regret. Gunshots echoed louder than her pulse thudding in her ears but it was all background noise. No tears fell from her eyes. She was still stuck in a comatose state of utter disbelief.

The Joker was not dead. He _couldn't_be.

He was her lifeline. Her savior. Her lover. Her darling monster.

Cascading in ringlets around her shoulders, her untidy blonde pigtails swooped down around her cheeks as she bent to examine the clown with scrutiny. Strangely, he looked peaceful. On their unconventional day to day basis, there was always a slight crease of skin between his brows, the only thing that gave away his hidden stress.

Harley still remembered the only time she had mentioned that, he had broken her nose.

A whimper rose from her throat as her eyes roamed over his lanky body, taking in every curve, every inch of him. When her gaze rested upon the knife twisted in his gut, she felt bile begin to rise up in her mouth causing her to retch. Her knees buckled beneath her as her gaze was filled with nothing but the startling sight of his blood.

"P-Puddin'…" Her knees failed her—buckling under the weight of the memories that consumed her. She fell to the ground beside him. His laugh filled her ears, melodious and haunting. She regretted all the times she had cursed at him. She felt sick when she recalled all the times she had screeched her hate in his face.

"Talk to me, baby. Say something. Please, Mistah J…" She whispered, her high-pitched voice lilting an octave above it's usual. Reaching out with shaking hands, she pulled his battered corpse into her arms, tugging him onto her lap. She bent down, pressing her lips to his forehead. He was so cold. _So unnaturally cold_.

Feeling so numb, she barely noted the hot wetness that crept over her legs. When she looked down, she realized it was the seeping of blood from the Joker's midsection onto her legs splayed out beneath him. On impulse, her hand clasped the handle of the knife that protruded. Ripping it free with tremendous force, she tossed it carelessly against the pavement beside them, hunching her back and draping herself over her clown prince.

"Don't leave me, Puddin'…please don't go…" She breathed, finally allowing tears to streak down her cheeks, smearing her black and white make-up into tragic shades of gray.

She would make sure that the Joker's death was not going to be the last laugh he would get.

Batman would _pay_for what he did to her man.

Beneath her, his face was still set in a grin.

* * *

_You can't be saved  
Oblivion is all you crave  
If there's some left for you  
You don't mind if you do  
_

* * *

**A/N: **Hopefully a few of you will stick around for the second chapter! Honestly, this is just the introduction chapter. Nothing jazzy or anything. So, it'll get more intense, I promise.


	2. Beguiling Riddles

_My love has concrete feet  
My love's an iron ball  
Wrapped around your ankles  
Over the waterfall  
_

* * *

Harley's eyes raked over the huge stature of the rundown apartment complex. Her steps didn't echo as they usually did, her simple black ballet flats only tapping softly on the cracked pavement. She felt out of place. The street was quiet around her, only the hum of the engine of the cab she had taken to get there roared to life behind her as it pulled away. She felt indecisive—maybe it had been a bad idea to go there in the first place. After all, she didn't know if he would even help her, and the trip to the complex only a few blocks from her own had been an impulsive one. The last time she had gone there, she had been dragged out of the apartment by a raging psychopathic clown. Her darling.

Her _dead _darling.

Mustering courage she didn't know she had, she danced up the stairs of the complex, finding the familiar door she had sought refuge at so many times before. Using a slender finger to push the bell, she also rapped on the wooden surface for good measure.

Soon, she heard the click of the deadbolt as the door slid open only six inches to reveal skeptical green eyes. The slant of Edward Nigma's sharp nose was prominent and the characteristic darting eyes gave away his constant nervousness. It put a grin on Harley's face, lighting it up like a Christmas tree.

"Hiya, Eddie. Lemme in, will ya'?" She piped, trying to keep as much pain from her voice as possible. He didn't know what happened yet. A sick twisting in her gut began when she realized that maybe he wouldn't feel sorry for her after all. He did hate the Joker, why shouldn't he be glad he was dead?

"Hello, Harley…" The Riddler paused, debating. His eyes seemed to dart around her—looking if the Joker was with her, most likely—before opening the door a few more inches, just enough for her tiny gymnasts body to slip through. Once she was in the foyer, she looked the man up and down, inwardly remarking about his constant insistence on class. Even in his own home he wore his suit. His lanky body was stretched thinner than usual it seemed to her as the cheap green fabric hung off of him like ill-fitting drapes. His hawkish features gave most people a sense of unease, but Harley felt the opposite. When he trained his gaze on the small harlequin, a huge smile graced her lips as she flung herself into his arms. Taken off guard by the gesture, he gripped the tops of her arms to hold her and she heard him make a small snort of confusion in the back of his throat. Closing her eyes, Harley tried to imagine it wasn't the green-suited man she was hugging, and instead replaced the image with a familiar purple suit. She would have given anything to be held tightly in the embrace of the Joker instead, but comfort, it seemed, was a bit hard to come by.

She pulled away from Edward a moment later, reaching up to straighten his suit and adjust it's collar. Surprise was held in his colorful irises as he watched her, covering her dainty hands with his own spindly ones to still her fussing.

"I bet yer happy to see me, Eddie." Harley winked at him, at once dancing away further into the apartment. The Riddler sighed audibly, reluctantly following her to the living room.

"Sure, Harley. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His speech was formally polite but his voice conveyed the honest annoyance he felt. The blonde by now had skipped into the tiny L-shaped kitchen, pulled open the cabinet and gotten herself a glass of water. Her mouth pinched with distain as she downed the fluid in a gulp, thinking that maybe Eddie needed to get himself a water purifier. Either that, or remember to pay his water bill on time so the sewage sludge didn't begin to creep in.

"Can't an old friend just stop by to say howdy ho? No reason necessary?" Her brows furrowed in mock astonishment. Edward Nigma walked to the kitchen, his black loafers clicking along on the linoleum as he leaned against the small oak table. He reached out to pull a chair free for his guest who immediately plopped herself down, smiling up at him cordially. "Always a gentleman, Ed, aren't 'cha?" She winked flirtatiously.

"Of course an old friend could stop by. But if memory serves—and mind you, mine _always_does—last time you decided to pay me a visit it ended with a broken nose for me and you being dragged out of here by your hair by a disgruntled clown. I'd rather not repeat that incident, if you don't mind." He growled, running a hand through his hair irritably. His eyes flickered over the petite blonde, watching as she bowed her head, pigtails falling around her shoulders in small waves.

"Ya' won't need to worry about that. He won't be doing that anymore." Her voice was barely audible over the hum of his dishwasher running in the background.

"Pardon me for not trusting your word, but what exactly makes you so sure?" He quirked the side of his lip up in slight disbelief. He watched as a breath of air floated through the small girl, her chest expanding twice the size with the effort, big wide unfocused eyes turning draw him in.

"Because Mistah J is dead." Her words hung like a suicide victim, limp and lifeless in the noose of which she constructed. Edward felt his mouth go dry, nearly unable to speak. _Nearly._

"What? What the _hell_? Harley, I don't understand." Instinctively he pawed through his hair again. There were no apologies coming from his lips. There was no comfort directed towards her. He didn't even attempt to console the blonde, and she didn't expect him too. She knew that when she told him those words, he would be utterly unsympathetic.

The Riddler hated Mistah J, and Mistah J hated him. That was just the way it was.

"I don't understand either, Eddie. All I know is that my Puddin' is _dead._" She spat with disdain. The Riddler looked up at her through heavy-lidded eyes with a curious expression.

"Well, I hope you don't expect me to feel bad for you." He said after a moment of silence. "Sympathy is temporary—and fickle." Harley shot him a dangerously violent glare.

"I expect you to shut yer trap and lemme talk, Eddie-boy." She was done playing games. It wasn't that the intelligent man's words hurt her, but they stung at so many already gaping wounds that she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

"My humblest condolences," The Riddler sneered suddenly very close to the girl's face. "I think you may have forgotten that it's _my_apartment you're barging into."

"Oh, just listen for a second, will ya'? Please." She placed her dainty hands on his chest, motioning him back and calming him at the same time.

"Time's a precious thing, and you're wasting mine. Hurry it up, Harley, the clock's ticking." He growled, still seemingly irked.

"It's Batman's fault. It's all his fault that Mistah J is dead. If Batman hadn't gotten in the way, J would still be living." Her voice was solemn in tone, her eyes livid with rich anger. She felt her nails dig into her palms, fury rising into her blood, bile rising from her stomach. How dare he take her Clown Prince away from her. How _dare_he take the life of someone so valuable to the world.

"That's unfortunate. Now, what good is it doing to talk about it?" Taking a deep breath, Harley puffed an exhale through her glossy red lips in an excited rush.

"I'm going to take the Batman down." Despite her serious face and posture, the Riddler burst out in loud guffaws. "What the _hell_, Eddie?! I'm for serious—I'm gonna kill B-man!" Her voice rose to a fevered pitch. Edward grasped at his ribs for support as laughs continued to tumble from his lips. They were harsh cracking barks—nothing like Mistah J's heartwarming chuckles. Her ears ached for the rough cackles to be soothed by something nicer.

"Harley, that's hilarious." The man said once he caught his breath. "Your ignorant circus clown of a boyfriend could never manage that—damn, if _I_can't manage that, no one can." He puffed out his skeletal chest superiorly. Inwardly, Harley thought he looked rather silly like that.

"No, you see, Mistah J had this little problem with letting go. He could never stand the thought of losing B-man, even at his own hands." A twinge of jealousy entered her squeaking voice. "If J had wanted to kill him, he could have. He could'a had B-man in a casket years ago."

"I beg to differ, and it would be wise to head my advice." Edward spoke in a heated tone of voice, clearly disgruntled that his intellect and skill was being put under question by the mere suggestion the Joker could have bested the Bat who never was beat by the man in front of her. The man who's scrawny body had been tossed into Arkham one too many times for his own mental stability. Harley paused, taking a deep breath, figuring it would be wise to appease him.

"Eddie, I got'cha. That's why I'm here. I want to kill the Bats, but I can't do it by myself, I know that." He arched a brow skeptically as she spoke. "I need your help, Ed. I need you to help me take him down." Riddler leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Do you have any idea what you're proposing, Harley? I'm a reformed man. I'm _done_with the dirty deeds of Gotham. Why would I do anything—so ridiculous—as to kill the Batman? I'd get my ass hauled back to Arkham Asylum before you could even cheer 'yahoo!' Honestly, I knew you were a ditzy blonde, but this is just…"

"I'm not even a natural—" Harley cut off as she was about to say 'blonde', thinking better of annoying Riddler. "I hear ya' Eddie, but you know what I'm saying. If we kill the Batman, if_you_help me kill the Batman…think of how_famous_ you'd be. You could do anything in this city. Don't tell me that you couldn't outsmart that stupid Comish Gordon, because ya' could, Ed. The city would be ours for the taking." Immediately, Riddler's eyes darkened to an opaque unnatural emerald. His hawkish features focused on Harley as he bit his lip, pulling it through his teeth in deep thought.

"Famous?" He repeated, eyes burning with desire. Harley nodded, leaning towards him so her breath tickled his face. She reached for his hand, twisting his slender fingers with her own in a tight interlocking gesture.

"So incredibly famous, Eddie. You're name would be all over Gotham. You would be known as the man who defeated the undefeatable—the man who took the Batman down. Think about it, you know I'm right." Her tongue traced the outline of her glossy lips as he studied her face to see if she was genuine. Her lashes fluttered down as he looked at their interlocked hands.

"Tell me, Harley. You say this is your plan, you want me to help. How will it be _my_name that goes up in lights? It'll be you who gets the glory." He pointed out, half-heartedly trying to poke holes in her infallible plan. The harlequin smiled devilishly as if she knew he was going to ask that.

"You'll be the mastermind behind the whole shebang. I don't care if it's you who takes all the credit for doing the dirt, as long as the Batman is sleeping with the fishes. I want B-man dead, and I want him dead _soon_." She spoke in a whispered curse. She felt her blood quicken in her veins, the adrenaline rush becoming too much. Her baby blue eyes bore into Edward's skeptical ones as she watched his worry dissipate into something similar to admiration.

"You think you and I can do this alone? You and your sick boyfriend couldn't even do that."

"No, I du'n think we could." She pulled back, slipping free from his kitchen chair. His eyes followed her every movement, raking over her body with scrutiny. She was used to guys staring at her, they often did. She frequently reveled in their attention, knowing it would be followed by a punch to their menial faces by her darling. But he was no where to be found, and Riddler was still staring. She did nothing to stop him, realizing his gaze was mostly calculating her athletic and stamina abilities. Mostly. "I'll have a few other friends help us don't have to worry about that part though. All you have to do is listen to what I say and help me take Bats down. Then presto, you're a famous genius."

"A few friends?" He ignored her attempts to gloss over the situation. He spun in his chair, following her to the window she was gazing out of. The street outside looked busy and rundown. Gotham didn't seem to have the same appeal it usually did without Mistah J beside her. It made her feel slightly queasy. "Who?" His demands jarred her from her thoughts.

"Relax, Eddie." She swiveled and placed a hand on his shoulder, fisting her fingers in the fabric softly. "I'll tell the ladies not to give you a hard time." She smiled wickedly.

"_The ladies_? Dear god, you're not talking about…" He sucked in a breath, disbelieving.

"Of course, Ed. It's not like I trust anybody else. You'll see, it'll all work out." She spun away from the slack-jawed man after planting a feathery kiss on his cheek, too close to the corner of his mouth for his liking. She danced towards the door, regardless of Edward's monosyllabic responses. "I'll call you, m'kay? Be in touch, Eddie." She blew him a kiss and shut the door behind her.

Walking down the pathway to the taxi parked out front, she paused a moment, looking up at the sky. Small raindrops began to fall, plopping onto her head without much of a sound. A satisfied grin crossed her lips as she twirled around, arms thrown into the air.

Soon. Soon Batman would be dead.

She tossed her head back to the sky and began to giggle madly, wide blue eyes almost as bright as the sky.

* * *

_And is it worth the wait  
All this killing time?  
Are you strong enough to stand?  
Protecting both your heart and mine_

* * *

**A/N:**Yep, the ladies are next. Get excited.

Stay with me a little longer and everything will be revealed, my lovelies... :)


	3. Goddess's Seduction

**A/N: **Thanks to all my readers, your support truly means so much to me. I'm so happy people are at least enjoying this so far.

* * *

_Women and men we are the same  
but love for love must be a game  
we give and take a little more  
eternal game of tug and war_

* * *

When Harley first stepped into the park, she was immediately overwhelmed with the aroma of hundreds of flowers. It almost made her feel as though she should take up gardening as a hobby. It wasn't as if she had a whole heck of a lot to do now that…_he_was gone. Plus, it would mean getting to spend a lot more time with her best friend.

She marched into Robinson Park with a huge grin on her cherry-colored lips, the beginnings of a pink bubble of Bubbilicious gum forming between them. She had put on a more comfortable ensemble for the occasion, a pair of crudely trimmed jeans-turned-shorts cutting off scandalously with fringe brushing her upper thigh. Her crimson midriff matched the red of her lips and also showed off enough of her navel to make passers-by—typically of the male sort—stop and stare. She whistled a cheerful tune, lips puckering into a glossy kissy-face, singular ponytail swishing from side to side behind her. Her baby blue eyes darted around the overgrown garden, which could really be called more of a forest because of the plethora of vines and towering trees, taking in all the impossibly beautiful flowers surrounding her.

Though, it wasn't the plants she had come there for. She stopped by an oak tree, planting her bottom on the wooden bench beside her, shorts riding up criminally high, turning them into tight denim panties. She shifted her gaze to study the glowing sunny orb in the pure, untainted sky. No clouds floated around today, it was a striking blue that made her almost feel sick to her stomach. Even though the day was plenty bright, something still seemed duller without the Joker beside her. The whole world seemed to fade into shades of gray without him. She tilted her head back, shutting her eyes and letting out a tired sigh. Revenge would be sweet as the Batman paid dearly for his crimes. Paid dearly for taking the precious life of her Puddin'.

"…_Harley…_" Her name seemed to come from the plants surrounding her, the vine of a nearby clematis tickling the flesh of her cheek. Her eyes snapped wide open at once and jerked herself forward. Sparkles filled her vision that was, at the moment, filled with gorgeous, shapely green legs.

"Hiya, Red!" Harley piped excitedly, squealing as she stood and threw her arms around the red-haired botanical goddess, Poison Ivy. The woman returned her embrace, hushing the girl's loud squeaks, wrapping her arms around the smaller blonde. Burying her face into her friend's neck, Harley breathed in the familiar herbal scent that belonged to the beauty, feeling immediately soothed. The comfort she had so desperately desired was finally here. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, out of sadness about the Joker, but at the same time she was overly thrilled to be reunited with her dearest friend.

"I thought for a moment my plants were deceived when they alerted me to your presence and I can say I'm happily mistaken to find they were correct." When Poison Ivy pulled back to gaze into Harley's baby blues, she left her hands resting on the girls waist, fingers tracing over the skin idly.

"I missed ya' so much, Ivy." Harley grinned, staring gooney-eyed at the redhead. Poison Ivy resembled that of a nature goddess, to beautiful to even be considered a supermodel. Her vibrant curls tumbled over her shoulders, twisting around her forearms, blowing in the slight breeze. A leotard crafted of leaves covered her full, well-endowed bosom, hugging to her curves tightly, cutting off in arches over her hipbones to reveal the entire incredible length of her legs. Her whole body screamed perfection. It didn't matter the awkward pale green tint of her skin. If anything, it made her look even sexier.

"Oh, Harley, I've missed you too. I can't believe you stopped visiting me because your ignorant clown ordered you too." She grimaced, her electric green eyes turning disapproving.

"You make it sound like I'm a dog." The blonde pouted, her heart aching at the mention of the Joker.

"Once a bitch, always a bitch." Poison Ivy shrugged, her long nails scraping over Harley's waist like the thorns on the rosebush beside them. Now it was the girl's turn to frown, squirming in the other's grasp. She knew Ivy was angry with her, and she had every right to be. But, in Harley's defense, the last time she had left the house to go out on the town with Ivy for some fun, when she had come back the Joker had attempted to strangle her. She hadn't wanted to repeat that…rather unpleasant experience, so she just stopped visiting the redhead. No matter how much she hated the longing to see her best friend.

"I'm guessing you haven't heard the news, then." She spoke through tight lips, moisture welling up in the corners of her eyes, making them seem brighter than usual.

"What news, Harley dearest?" Ivy pulled away, stretching out her arms caressing the girl's shoulders with her fingers before traveling down the length of her arms, taking the blonde's tiny hands in her own womanly ones. She toyed with her fingers while Harley tried to formulate the correct words to convey her hurt.

"Mistah J is dead." She said bluntly. Poison Ivy stiffened, her pupils dilating slightly as if she were aroused by the thought. She drew in a breath and Harley watched the front of her chest tighten, expanding in the thin green leotard. "He's gone, Red."

"What a…pity." The redhead whispered after a moment of silence. It wasn't as though Harley expected her to be distraught by the thought of his death. If anything, she expected the same reaction she had gotten from Edward Nigma. Though Ivy seemed to be relatively receptive to the news, maybe a little happy, but something still seemed to concern her. "How are you doing?" The woman expressed her concern without meeting Harley's sad eyes. Her peridot jewel colored stare was fixated on the ground below, as if it were a weakness to show concern for the girl. But regardless, she did it, because Harley knew deep in her heart that Ivy would never be able to resist her—she loved her too much for that.

"Ya' know, could be better." The blonde gave a shrug, the petite frame of her shoulders rising and falling lifelessly.

"You'll be fine because you're strong. Stronger without him as your weakness." Harley gave a snort after Ivy spoke with such ferocity it made the blonde shrink back slightly. When Poison Ivy was passionate about something—typically her general disgust with humanity, men in particular—she could be quite vocal about her opinions.

"I never saw Mistah J as a weakness," Harley murmured quietly. It was Ivy's turn to offer a sound of disgruntlement and fix the girl with a hard stare. She squeezed the small fingers she held in her own pale green ones and pulled her onto the bench beside them, thighs brushing against the blonde's as they sat.

"I know you won't believe me if I tell you you're better off without him." Harley pursed her lips, chewing thoughtfully on her bubblegum.

"Mhmm." She hummed in response, blowing and snapping the pink confection between her lips. "I can see how ya'd think that," she said distastefully. "But nothing matters without him." The last part was added in a quiet, thoughtful undertone. She missed him. Oh, God, she _missed_him. Her heart ached, felt like someone had driven a knife into her gut and twisted, all she wanted to do was curl up or double over with the pain of living. The Joker had been her whole life, her whole existence. She had left her sheltered life of Harleen Quizel to be with him. Shredded every last fiber of humanity she had to take part in the Clown Prince's lunatic games. She couldn't go back to being Harleen, but she also couldn't go back to being the Joker's enthusiastic sidekick.

So, who was she anymore?

"You're thinking too much, Harl." Suddenly Ivy's nails were cupping Harley's chin gently, turning her face to meet her green, seductive stare. "Tell me what's going on. Why are you here?" Her voice was soft and sensual, coating the words with a longing that Harley could feel deep within her chest.

"The Batman killed Puddin'." Her eyes teared up slightly before hardening into something furious—something animalistic. "He took my darling away from me." As her words passed through trembling lips, Ivy traced her fingers down Harley's jaw softly.

"I always knew he serve to cause a problem. I should have taken him out with my plants when I had the chance, before he could make you so sad." Her words lilted at the end.

"Pammie, I need your help."

"Whatever you need, I'm here." Harley drew in a deep breath, smiling brilliantly.

"Great. Let's kill Bats together, then." Poison Ivy's eyes widened in an astonished fashion, her fingers freezing on the blonde's collarbone.

"Harley, you can't be serious."

"I'm usually joking, but not this time—I'm completely serious."

"You want to kill the man who's tossed us in the slammer more times than I'd care to admit? Good luck with that, girl."

"B-but, we can do it together! We can outsmart him, I mean—girl power, Red!" Harley grabbed Ivy's shoulders passionately, pulling her closer so her sweet breath coated the pale green skin of Ivy's face.

"Just us two? Honestly, we've gone up against him before, I don't even think your anger would make us any stronger. I'm hell-bent on turning this world into something greater, something lacking of humans—never suicidal." She leaned back against the wooden frame of the bench, closing her eyes and tipping her head back to bask in the rays of sun that seemed to light her face perfectly. Her lips were quirked into a slight frown, not enough to leave wrinkles, but only to convey proper dismay at the slack-jawed girl's suggestion.

"What if…it wasn't just us working together? We'd win against him then for sure." Harley hesitated telling Ivy about the rest of the plan. She knew how she felt about men, some green suited ones in particular. The redhead opened one eye, shifting her gaze to the girl.

"Who else?" She demanded in a hard tone. She was no-nonsense now and probably had a good idea of who Harley was referring to.

"Just some old friends I'm trying to recruit. I'm sure at least Kitty would be willing to do it, if you did." Ivy ignored what Harley said, her voice coming out harsh when she spoke.

"That damn Edward isn't helping, is he?" Immediately Harley cringed.

"So what if he is? Really, Pammie, it's no big deal, he just wants to help me—"

"Oh, _God_, not that ignorant son of a bitch! You know I can't stand him, how dare that piece of scum even be allowed to walk this Earth. Hell, he's a disgrace to the male species—and that's saying a _lot_." The trees around them shook, the clematis beside them wilting pitifully, curling around the wood of the bench limply. Harley sucked in another deep breath, puffing out her cheeks before chomping down hard on her gum. Her cherry red lips pressed together in a line, an idea hitting her suddenly.

"I guess Eddie and I 'ill just hav'ta work together then…I wish you'd change your mind, Red, I could really use your help…" Harley trailed off as her hand, with its black nail polish glinting in the sun, took Ivy's in her own. Ivy glanced down, her eyes narrowing. "I know you're tougher than Ed, this would be a great chance to prove it 'an all, but…I understand if you don't wanna."

"Wait." Poison Ivy said in a clipped tone. Her hand flipped to lace their fingers together, a devilish smile crossing her lips. "I suppose this does offer me the opportunity to show him who's superior once again." Harley squeezed Ivy's fingers happily, her teeth showing in a full-out brilliant grin.

"So you'll help me?" Ivy sighed, amused by the girl's enthusiasm. She suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace, her long vine-like arms ensnaring the blonde in a comforting hug.

"Of course, Harl. I could never let you down." When she pulled back, both women looked at each other with a wicked grin.

_Soon_, Harley repeated like a mantra. Soon Batman would be dead.

* * *

___yeah, you may be good looking  
but you're not a piece of art  
Power and control  
I'm gonna make you fall_

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry I can't write a very good oversexed Poison Ivy. I guess I'm just that awkward. Maybe I did OK. We'll see.

Reviews are love. C:


	4. Insanity of a Clown

**A/N: **Enjoy, my lovelies! :)

* * *

_Woke up and wished that I was dead__  
__With an aching in my head__  
__I lay motionless in bed__  
__I thought of you and where you'd gone__  
__and let the world spin madly on_

* * *

She fingered the dirty material in her hands, rubbing her palms across it before fisting her nails into it desperately. The purple suit was only another reminder he was gone. She hated every minute that she lived without him, and her only wish at the moment was to join him in sweet, solemn death.

Earlier in the evening she had walked into their apartment (she still refused to call it only _hers_) with her ponytail swinging behind her head. Seeing Ivy had put her in a relatively good mood, finally happy for the first time in days. The aching in her heart had been momentarily lifted, the pressure fading at the sight of the green skinned beauty's smile. She had been able to forget about the Joker for a while, but his memory still remained.

His clammy palms touching hers, his cheeks pale with death. Matted green hair had fallen delicately across his forehead, the only color in his face besides red. Bright red. Horrible red. It was an ugly crimson that had stained his mouth, dribbling over his chin in droplets. Red lips, unnaturally so.

Harley closed her eyes tight, trying to forget the image of the Joker's knife buried deep in his stomach, spilling blood and guts and what-have-you all over the cement beside them. Hot tears spilled over her cheeks void of make-up as she flopped onto the sofa, the cushions deflating with the weight of her slight body.

She had never missed someone so much in her life.

Not her mother, her father, even her favorite Grammy. _Nothing compared to this._His loss stood alone, taking a piece of her heart along with him into death.

She wasn't a particularly religious person. Not at all, actually. The Joker had often scoffed at the idea of an 'Almighty Ruler' saying that if there was a God, he would do something about all the idiots in the world. Harley had no experience praying to anyone, much less a God. She frowned at the floor, clutching the fabric like a lifeline to her chest, shoving it under her angular chin and rubbing the fabric against her neck. She bent her knees, slipping off the couch, moving her gaze to the ceiling.

"I dunno how to start this, but God, you're one nasty guy to take my Puddin' away from me." Sobs threatened to cut her words off abruptly, but she swallowed hard and continued on. "Please take care of him. He was—he _is_a good guy, honest. A little troubled, sure, he's sad. But he loved—_loves_me. He does. That's how I know there's hope." Now the sobs couldn't be stopped. She thought of his smiling face and cringed, a sickening cramp taking over her stomach and turning it upside down. Hell's bells, it _hurt_. Living without him _hurt_.

"Please take care of him, if you're up there, God. Please, for me, take care of him." She whispered, falling to the floor with grief, his suit cushioning her descent. The purple fabric splayed out beneath her cheek as she tried to inhale his scent, burying her nose deep into the collar. His scent was fading, disappearing into the abyss he was now lost in. Tears stained the material, making it seem a much darker purple than usual.

Harley drew in a sniffle, squeaking out choked gasps. Her eyelids fluttered closed, the image of the Joker haunting her vision, his laugh replaying in her ears.

She missed him.

She missed him so much.

* * *

_I let the day go by__  
__I always say goodbye__  
__I watch the stars from my window sill__  
__The whole world is moving and I'm standing still_

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to all my wonderful readers. You all make me so happy. Thank you all very dearly, it means so much for people to enjoy my writing. :)


	5. Feline Grace

**A/N:** This chapter is for my lovely, _KayMoon24._Your support especially makes me feel like a million bucks. :3

Also, thanks to all my INCREDIBLE reviewers. Seriously, you're wonderful. ALL of the internet hugs to ya'all! :D And a big ol' thank you to those of you that have favorited/alerted/etc, and those who have just read. I appreciate it greatly.

* * *

_Baby you have a choice,__  
__cause you burn my ears with your magic voice.__  
__I'm a paper doll, you can tear me up,__  
__We'll be the broken lovers with the poison cup.__  
__And we'll draw in breaths like we don't have air,__  
__Oh god, look at me, don't you ever care...__  
__that I'm dying in the cupboard underneath the stairs?__  
__Steps stamp on above my head._

* * *

Cicadas chirped as hot summer air blew over the rooftops of Gotham City. Harley Quinn tapped the heel of her black leather boot on the cracking cement while the sounds of the highways below roared to life in her ears. She blew an exasperated sigh through her glossy red lips, reaching up a hand to rub tiredly at her eyes, smearing her sloppily applied eyeliner and mascara in the process. Glancing down, she straightened her tight black camisole, pulling her matching dark denim shorts down so they fell criminally low on her hips. Her watch read 15 minutes past midnight. Soon the hands fell to 20 minutes, shortly turning to 25 after that.

Just as Harley pulled out her cell phone to send a very irate text, annoyed curses flying from her lips, she heard a soft purr come from the opposite side of the rooftop. It slowly turned into a deep and sensual chuckle, the patter of high heels purposefully clicking over the rough ground accompanying it. The visitor was illuminated by full rich moonlight, highlighting every curve of her lithe body and charming face.

"Impatient as always, Harley," Selina Kyle greeted her friend. Her lips spread into a predatory grin, white teeth flashing under red lipstick that wasn't quite as red as the blonde's. Catwoman wore her typical long sleeved leather and spandex ensemble regardless of the heat, complete with knee-high stiletto boots. The top of her leotard-like uniform was unzipped, dipping into a V-neck just low enough to make men want to watch as she drew a breath in. Her hair was cropped short in a spiky pixie style, jutting out this way and that. Her vibrant lime green irises seemed to narrow to the likeness of a cats, slitting as they focused on the harlequin.

"It's about time ya' got 'ere," Harley snapped, irritation and lack of sleep coloring her tone. He blonde sauntered over to the thief, hips sashaying in a pleasing fashion. Her baby blue eyes shone brilliantly in the moonlight, becoming deep pools of cerulean. The way her lashes fluttered down, casting delicate shadows on her ivory cheeks bare of clown make-up, made her look youthful and childish. Her heart-shaped face tilted as she popped her hips in a scandalously adult gesture and placed a hand on her left side, contrasting her delicate facial features.

"I was glad to hear from you, I'm pleased we could meet this soon to catch up." Catwoman purred once again, stepping out of the shadows so she was a mere foot from Harley. The blonde, not able to contain her giddy, infectious laughter a minute more, began to giggle madly as she pulled the thief into stifling hug.

"Oh, it's so good to see ya' too, kitty cat!" She squealed, her face nuzzled into the taller woman's neck. Selina laughed, a throaty sound, and wrapped her arms around the petite gymnast. After a momentary embrace, they pulled back and smiled at each other as old friends do. Selina spoke first with an uncomfortable rasp tainting her tone.

"Harley…I heard about the Joker. I'm really sorry." Harley's gaze shifted downward immediately, the ache in her heart feeling more prominent every time her name was spoken. Selina was probably the only one of her friends who would understand what it was like to lose someone—to be left with nothing. To watch your only family be yanked away from you while you stand by, too helpless to do anything but carry around a torch of fiery vengeance. Selina was the only one who was genuinely sorry for her loss. Harley raised her gaze bravely to meet Catwoman's concerned one.

"Me too, kitty. I'm sorry too." She said quietly, her voice low and void of its usual enthusiasm. The older woman's eyes were filled with sympathy and understanding, the pools of pain mirroring each other's. Harley was quite aware of the fact the Joker wasn't a fan of Catwoman, and nor she was an advocate of him. In fact, Selina had pressed Harley hard to leave him on more than one occasion, offering her haven in her apartment, knowing the risks of the Joker's wrath. She had been one of her oldest friends though, and unlike Ivy, Selina would not let vendettas with someone else cloud her realization of the pain one of her dearest friends was feeling—simply because she had felt the grief of loss so many times as well.

"I know I was never friendly with him, but I know you loved him." Catwoman said, echoing Harley's thoughts. The blonde bobbled her head in a nod, fearing that if she spoke her friend would hear the tears stuck in her throat. Instead, she turned her back, strutting away towards the railing of the warehouse roof, leaning onto the metal with her palms. She watched as the city below was filled with life—families going out to dinner, couples holding hands, an elderly woman exiting a taxi. They had no idea. They had no idea about the suffering and pain of others, nor did they care. They simply went on with their lives as if nothing was happening, crying only when someone _they knew_was gone. It was their loss that mattered and nothing more. Harley couldn't help but agree with the Joker at that moment, feeling a passionate pull towards a violent outburst towards humanity.

_It's a sick thing, really, humanity is. Disgustingly selfish creatures who care only for themselves, looking up from their pathetic world when they feel pain. Well, Harls, I say they're cockroaches. And cockroaches are pesky bugs who need to be squashed._

His words rang in her head and she shook her pigtails around, blonde curls falling into her face as she tried to hold onto the sound of his voice for as long as possible.

_Cockroaches. They're cockroaches, Harls. Pesky bugs who need to be squashed. Squash them, Harls. Squash them._

Her eyelids dropped closed. His voice was everywhere, surrounding her at once, haunting her. Even in death he would not remain at peace, because there would always be a little bit of him inside her that wouldn't fade. The flickering flame of his life would remain alive inside her and she would avenge him.

"Harley?" Selina's voice broke through her thoughts. The petite girl gritted her teeth, pasted a smile on her lips and turned to face the concerned thief.

"M'okay, kitty. I just disappeared there for a sec'. Just rememberin' 'im is all." Her eyes were unable to veil the sadness she truly felt. Catwoman looked at her sadly for a moment before turning towards the street Harley had been looking at a moment ago. She pressed her stomach against it, thin abdomen curling around it and resting her elbows on the slick metal rail.

"Sure, I get it." Was all she said. She too seemed to be somewhere else at the moment. At that second, a thought struck Harley.

"Hey, cat? How'd you hear about Mistah J…passin' away and all? I mean, it's been pretty _hush hush_," Harley pressed her index finger to her lush lips in demonstration. "I think the police have been try'n'ta keep it under wraps till they can officially figure out what happened." Her face screwed up in distaste, nose wrinkling. She knew exactly what happened, and she would swear on her life she would bring the Batman down for what he did to her poor Puddin'. Selina grimaced beside the blonde, fiddling with the gloves on her hands nervously.

"News gets around." She said elusively. Harley's blue eyes focused on her friend's face, a realization dawning on her. There would only be one person she would be uncomfortable talking to Harley about.

Batman.

"That damn Bats told ya', din't he?" Harley spilled out a string of explicatives, starting her companion.

"Hey, chill out, Harley!" Catwoman straightened her posture to look at the angry harlequin. Her pale face was contorted with inhuman fury and a feral grin made her perfect lips suddenly seem intimidating as if she would snap at any second.

Harley Quinn looked insane.

"That fuckin' B-man, what a son of a bitch is gonna pay, I swear it. I can't believe you're even _talkin'_to that bastard, let alone even _lookin_' at him! I couldn't dare look at that—that monster!" She cried, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. All it took was the mention of his name. The simple mention of that disgusting murderer.

"Calm down, Harley!"

"No, I will _not_calm down, kitty! I _won't_! He killed my darling! Batman took my Puddin' away from me for good…!" Her voice shook, fading of fury and was soon replaced by awful choking sounds. She pitched forward, clutching at her stomach, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She vaguely felt Selina's hands on her shoulder while she tried to stop the tears from flowing. The moisture flowed freely, smudging her make-up further so it streamed down her cheeks and covered them with black.

"Let's talk about this, please…for the love of—will you listen to me for a second?" Catwoman demanded, pulling up on Harley's shoulders, hard, and yanking her chin to face her. "He told me what happened. I don't see how you can hold him responsible for killing the Joker. He was just defending himself, he couldn't stop him from falling onto his—"

"No, no, no! It's _Batman's_fault! It's _his fault_!" She shook her head, pigtails coming undone wildly around her shoulders. It was unable to be certain what she looked like more—an unruly child throwing a temper tantrum, or an insane asylum escapee. Since, technically she was the latter, it was probably fair to say she resembled a mix. Her eyes blinked wildly with fear as she chewed her lower lip nervously. Selina let out an exasperated sigh, looking away, seeming to be conflicted between arguing with the girl further or letting it go.

"Fine. Think what you want, Harley, but just…try and see from his side." The usual purr was back in Catwoman's voice as she spoke. "Why did you want to meet me tonight, anyway? My fence set up a heist to pull later, so I really can't be here much longer…"

"I want to kill the Batman." Harley blurted out, unable to stop herself. Selina turned back to her slowly, her elegant cat's eyes widening with astonishment, uncertainty, and a little bit of fear.

"…you…what?" The purr was gone and filled with raspy dread. She ran a hand through her short hair, tussling it into a different style.

"I want to kill him. Soon. He has to pay for what he did to Mistah J." She said simply, like it was the only solution. Selina frowned, an action that formed wrinkles in the corners of her lips and made her seem tired.

"That's ridiculous, Harley." Harley watched as her friend tensed, rolling the muscles in her back like a cat riding up on its haunches. "You're not going to kill him. That's insane and you know it."

"It's not insane—it's an eye for an eye. He killed J, I kill him. The worlds order is back to it's topsy turvey normal, bada big everything's fine." She puffed her chest out proudly, golden curls tumbling around her shoulders now that her hair was free of it's rubber bands. Catwoman shook her head furiously, backing up a few steps. "I want you to help me, kitty. We can do it together, get rid of him once and for all!"

"I'm not getting involved. I won't do it." Selina replied immediately, studying the sharp ends of her black lacey gloves intently. Harley pouted, stepping forward towards the slowly retreating woman.

"Think about it, kitty cat. You'd have free reign of the city, taking what you want, never having to run from the Bats ever again. You could finally have everything you've ever wanted." Selina looked away, taking a deep breath, seemingly deep in thought. When she looked back at Harley, her eyes were filled with pity. Harley _hated_being pitied.

"Sorry, Harley. I can't help you."

"The only reason ya' won't is 'cause you're sleeping with him." Her words cut into Selina and her frown deepened.

"Be quiet."

"You're nothing more than his sexy cat burglar fuck-buddy. If you think he loves you, you're delusional. He'll throw you in the slammer the first time he gets the chance." At that, Catwoman visibly flinched, eyes blazing with fury. "But I can help, together we could take him down—"

"I said _be quiet_." Selina's voice reached un unpleasant decibel and Harley suddenly felt a harsh sting in her left cheek. She reached up a hand to stroke the reddened flesh, feeling a gash where Catwoman's nails had clipped her. "I'm sorry, but I won't help you. You need help, Harley. I'm here if you want to talk." She tried to soften her voice, fury fading from her eyes. Harley could only stare, blinking wildly, blue eyes watering with the sting from her cheek.

"But I…"

"Keep in touch, Harls. I've gotta head out." She backed up a few steps, pulling her orange-lensed goggles over her eyes. She smiled sadly at the speechless girl before backing into the shadows, disappearing into the concealed corner of the warehouse roof, leaving Harley alone.

The summer wind blew over her, feeling colder than before, as a shiver passed over her spine. She couldn't help but realize how truly alone she really felt.

* * *

_Baby I need a friend,__  
__but I'm a vampire smile, you'll meet a sticky end.__  
__I'm here trying not to bite your neck,__  
__but it's beautiful and I'm gonna get __so drunk on you and kill your friends.__  
__You'll need me and we can be obsessed._

* * *

**A/N:** I tried to get into Harley's head better this time, as well as represent the beauty of fabulous Miss Kyle. :3


	6. Cold Sweat

**A/N: **I have this attachment to Victor Fries though, he's just so sweet. Probably one of my favorite Batman villains.

…Who am I kidding, I love _all_ Batman villains.

* * *

_I'm worried i can't find what's real__  
__can't find any other way to feel__  
__blackbirds sing sad harmonies__  
__lost to the humming wires that feed_

* * *

Harley shivered, drawing the sides of her fleece coat tighter around her body. Her teeth chattered, bones quivering beneath her skin, and her skin turned an unnatural shade of pale blue. Her wide doe-like eyes lifted to the door in front of her, almost frozen solid at the hinges with condensation from the cold, moist air inside. She pulled open on the handles with her gloved hands and walked inside.

She had called earlier to notify Victor Fries of her visit, the familiar monotone voice droning over the line, conveying just the smallest bit of surprise at hearing from the young harlequin.

"Hello, Miss Quinzel," Mr. Freeze's voice came from directly in front of her in his working area. He sat hunched over his desk, gloved hands fiddling with something mechanical held in his lap. His red eyes glowed hauntingly beneath the large suit that sustained his life and gazed at her with apathy. Harley visibly flinched at the use of her real name.

"Heya Vic." She trotted into his lab, teeth continuing to chatter at the cold temperature that was so chilling it almost burned. "Ya' know I've told you can call me Harley."

"Yes, I recall. But your name is Harleen Quinzel, the title given to you at birth." He said simply. The girl looked down at her boots, somewhat saddened it was summer outside and she was wearing a parka and snow shoes. She had indeed met Victor at Arkham as his therapist, at that time being Harleen Quinzel. But Harleen was no more—replaced by the Daffy Dame, hench-wench to the Joker, the Clowny Princess of Crime. Hearing her former name made her cringe, recalling the sheltered life she used to lead, trying to ignore the small inkling of regret residing somewhere deep inside her heart.

"Yeah, sure, okay…" She dismissed it as nothing, deciding it wasn't worth arguing with the mild-mannered man. He stood to greet her, walking over to her with unreadable emotion tugging at the corners of his mouth. Although it seemed as though most of his emotions had frozen over with his transformation. "How are ya', Victor?" She spoke softly, lips turning a pale shade of blue to match with the rest of her face.

"I am indifferent. I feel nothing, Miss, as you are quite aware." He looked at her with the same haunting red stare and Harley couldn't help but be intimidated. It wasn't his stature that made her feel insecure, even uncomfortable, but it was his…sadness. He claimed to feel nothing but his pain was clear on his face. His gray skin sagged on his taught cheekbones, shadows of dark circles appearing under the glowing lenses that covered his eyes. His nose pointed, curving slightly down at the tip, angling like an arrow to his sharp chin. Mr. Freeze stood tall, towering above her in his large suit, but his posture wasn't meant to intimidate in the least. He simply stared, waiting for her to speak. When she didn't, she saw his discolored lips begin to part. "I would like to acknowledge your loss as I realize the Joker has passed on." Harley nodded, the ache in her heart feeling more prominent than before. When she didn't think about it, when she pretended that she would get home and walk through the doors to find her Puddin's smiling face, she felt okay. Just okay. Because she could only fool herself so much, knowing full well he was 6 feet under the ground, _dead,_smile most likely still on his lips.

"Yeah…" Was all she could manage as a response.

"I understand you came to ask for a favor." His quiet voice responded immediately. "And considering the temperature in here is below zero, it may be best for you to be on your way, Miss." It was no question that Freeze didn't care for visitors and made it clear she wasn't to stay longer than necessary. He wanted to get back to his work—get back to helping his true love, Nora, the only woman he would ever love. Harley cringed, feeling a strange sort of bond with the odd man in front of her. He stared coolly back at her without emotion.

"The Batman killed Mistah J." She spoke softly, her accent lilting at the end of her sentence as tears welled in her eyes and crystalized before they could drip down her cheeks. "He was the one who took him away from me." Victor didn't show any visible signs of distress. His gloved hands clasped together behind his back, his breath fogging up the glass surrounding his head.

"I understand the grief of loss. I feel it myself every day, Miss Quinzel." His tone couldn't have possibly been more monotone than it was even when he spoke about conveying strong emotion. It was if he were a machine unable to feel. How, if there was a higher power, could they let so much suffering take place? How could He allow this to happen to someone? To allow someone to reach a breaking point where their emotions literally freeze over. It hurt her heart, made her want to scream out of frustration about how the world could be so cruel. How badly she wished to be held, comforted, but the man in front of her would offer nothing of the sort.

Her heart began to ache, a dull pounding at first. The glass case over Fries' face fogged with condensation as he exhaled slowly. She knew he was staring at her so she willed her own gaze to meet his with determination.

"You want to save Nora, an' I wanted to save my Mistah J. It's too late for him now, it's too late." She whispered hoarsely, tears crystallizing in the corners of her eyes.

"Time is fleeting, Miss Quinzel, and we fall victim to unfortunate circumstance." His words scratched at her eardrums even at their pleasantly low decibel. The ache in her heart continued and refused to be squelched. "Your loss is not ignored."

"But no one believes me!" She hissed through clenched teeth suddenly. "No one _cares_about my darling! No one will do anything to help, an' I say it's _not_too late."

"You're implying something I do not understand."

"Revenge, Victor. I want revenge. You understand that, don't you? You know what it feels like to be so angry, I _know_you understand me." She turned her vicious blue gaze on him, boots shuffling on the floor as she walked into his work area, brushing past him. "Feeling anything hurts, Freeze. _Living_hurts, and I only knew living for Mistah J…without him…I'm scared."

"I understand emotion clearly, Miss. One that I know best is regret, another is pain." When she turned to look back at him, she saw his lips were pulling down in a slight frown. It added a sort of humanness to his face she at one point thought impossible. But like her, Victor Fries was very human.

"Then you know why I have'ta make Batman pay." Her voice was quiet. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, falling upon ice sculptures of a beautiful woman wherever they went. They lit up the room with an obsessive presence, shining in the cold brightness of his laboratory. Mr. Freeze was silent for a moment before he crossed the room with loud shuffles of his metal boots. He stood next to one of the carvings, red lenses for eyes studying it with a look of concentration and dedication that Harley had so often worn in her own face. He reached up a gloved hand to stroke the part of the sculpture that would be her hair, his lips parting in a distressed sort of content smile. She watched as the man disappeared, his fragility melting and becoming something that was not Mr. Freeze, but the shy man named Victor Fries who was devoted to his wife.

"Nora…" He whispered softly through his gray lips. His shoulders shook beneath the suit as he ran his hand down the ice to touch her neck and caress it's shoulder, clasping desperately to the frame as if it were the only thing connecting him to reality. And in a way, it sort of was. Without Nora there would be no Victor and the man in front of Harley would be consumed into an emotionless suit of metal, no longer a person, but completely machine. Nora was his hope, his dreams, his salvation.

Harley understood that kind of love. She had looked in the mirror and seen it firsthand. She had felt it with every slap the Joker dealt her, the never ceasing loyalty to someone else. She was bound, body and soul, even in death to the clown.

"Victor, I need your help. Help me in bringing the Bats to justice." She walked to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder to jar him out of his state of disillusion. "Do it for me. Do it because you know what it's like to have someone be taken from you."

His eyes studied her carefully before he answered, "I will assist you with what you need." The blonde drew in an excited breath and puffed foggy air through her glossy lips, her grip tightening on the man's suit.

"I knew you'd help me."

"I may not be able to feel the fury you do, but I can recall feeling it once for the same man who helped my dear Nora become frozen." He was quiet for a moment before continuing in a monotonous voice, "It may be too late to save your lover, but I will assist you. You remind me a great deal of my wife. Your eyes are the same blue, soft and determined." Harley lowered her gaze, a polite smile on her lips.

"Thank you."

"Certainly." He turned to look once more at the ice sculpture of Nora before facing Harley. "You have permission to seek my aid when you need it, contact me when it becomes necessary. I will escort you to the door." He began to walk towards the entrance, not noticing the petite girl was not following.

Her eyes were still fixed on the statue, awed by the meticulous devotion that was brought out by the craftsmanship. The eyelids were human thickness, the eyes underneath almost seeming to glint and sparkle as they looked back at Harley. The dress she wore seemed to shimmer with life, the arms held daintily at her sides positioned as she figured the woman would stand. Victor was already at the door holding it open for the girl, but he didn't object as she reached out a hand to run it down the stature hesitantly. It was cold to the touch even with the glove and any previous thought that the statue could ultimately be considered a beautiful representation of Nora's humanness was gone.

It was as cold as the Joker's body had been when she held it in her arms.

* * *

_This hollow world__  
__is holding onto me__  
__my soul my mind__  
__is held magnetically__  
__electric friction__  
__washes over me_

* * *

**A/N: **Really hoping I did Freeze justice, because he's such an endearingly monotone character… c:


	7. Temporary Reconcilliation

**A/N:** I'm a huge fan of making Riddler awkward with Harley's fliratiousness. Can't seem to stop, guys...askfjakjklajgdjkg...

...Have I mentioned that reviews make me smile like a dork? :3

* * *

_I live my life inside a dream  
Only waking when I sleep  
I would sell my sorry soul, if I could have it all_

* * *

_Riiiing riiing…riiinggg~~_

"_Hello, Harley dear,"_Poison Ivy's voice purred on the other end of the line. Harley kicked her legs up on the ottoman in front of her and reclined in her chair, drawing a squeak from it's rusty hinges. Her pigtails tumbled to one side as she spoke into the receiver of her cell phone.

"Hiya, Red!"

"_To what do I owe the pleasure of getting to hear your voice?"_

"I was wondering if ya' wanted to meet for a cup of coffee?" Harley pronounced 'coffee' more like _kaw-fee_ as she prattled excitedly to her friend. There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"_I'm not partial to coffee, but I suppose herbal tea would be acceptable."_

"Fantastic!"

"_When and where were you thinking?"_

"How about the little café on the corner of 2nd Street in about an hour?"

"_Sounds delightful."_

_Click._

Harley smiled, her white teeth flashing, as she glanced back at the phone in her hand. Slowly, she began to scroll to the next contact.

_Riiing…_

Harley was almost astonished that he picked up on the first ring.

"_What?"_ The Riddler snapped, irritated. _"I was in the middle of something, this better be important."_

"Take a chill pill, Eddie. You's was probably just doin' a crossword puzzle, nothing too pressing, I'm sure." Harley giggled.

"_Did you call me just to annoy me, Harley?"_

"Nah. I actually had a question for ya'."

"_Get on with it, will you?"_ He growled through the receiver.

"Rome wasn't built in a day!" Harley sing-songed. The Riddler sighed heavily, not even dignifying the cliché with a response. "Any_hoo_, I was wondering if ya' wanted to meet for a cup of coffee in about an hour?" Another long pause followed.

"_Why would I want to do that? I mean, voluntarily."_

"'Cause we need to have a chat, Ed. Time's a wasting on our plan and I want to have my revenge on Bats in a _week,_chippity chop!"

"_The expression is actually chip ch—"_

"So you're coming? Great, wonderful! Meet me at the café on the corner of 2nd Street, 'kay?"

"_Wait, hold on a—I never said I was going to—"_

"See ya' then, Eddie pie!" Harley cut him off by hanging up in the middle of his sentence. Stuffing her phone in her pocket, she stood and stretched herself out, straightening her lacey black top and denim mini-skirt. She skipped over to the door and grabbed her favorite strappy heels, hiking them on as she walked out the door whistling happily.

A little trickery never hurt anyone, right?

~.o.O.o.O.o.O.o~

Surprisingly enough, Edward Nigma arrived first. Harley was leaning against the brick wall outside of Joe's Café when she spotted the familiar face approaching. His auburn hair poked out, neatly combed, beneath his characteristic bowlers hat. His green suit was finely pressed and hung from his body like a pair of antique gaudy drapes. Something about his lanky frame struck the blonde as particularly adorable. He walked with a determined purpose and somehow managed to seem condescending to everyone he passed. His hawkish features examined Harley from afar and she could see him roll his eyes as she bounced off the wall and began to wave excitedly, arms flailing wildly about.

"You look like a child doing that, will you cut it out?" Riddler reprimanded when he was within earshot. Harley giggled and reached out to take his free hand that wasn't holding on to his question mark-riddled cane. She pulled him closer to her so she could plant a quick kiss on his cheek and elicit a blush from his cheeks.

"Good to see you too, Eddie." She grinned happy, a ridiculous image on her flawlessly made-up face. Her features were void of their usual clown attire, but that didn't stop her from coating on heavy eye-liner and of course her favorite cherry-red lip gloss. Edward stared for a moment, green eyes studying every curve and shadow of her face before he turned his head away.

"Sure it is." He muttered quietly. Harley reached down and grasped his hand tightly, lacing her fingers through his. She heard his nearly inaudible intake of breath shuddering through his chest at the sudden breach of contact. If the Joker had been alive he would have _never_let Harley be so bold or cavalier with any of her male friends. Especially the Riddler. The clown always seemed to have a bone to pick with the obsessive compulsive man.

"Let's go inside, m'kay? I'm thirsy and I could go for a cup of hot cocoa." At that Edward turned to the blonde as she led him through the glass doors and found them a table.

"Harley, it's practically 90 degrees out, and you want _hot cocoa_? I assumed 'going out for coffee' was to be taken a little less literally, but I suppose…" He trailed off figuring that the Clown Princess was odd enough in her delusions and that drinking hot chocolate in the summertime was probably one of the most normal things she did. He let out a small snort.

"Yeah, I'd like one. You want one too, Ed?" She asked innocently, not understanding his reason for criticism.

"Uh, no. I'm good, thanks. I'll just have a water." He rolled his eyes and sat down at the table while Harley danced over to the counter to order. She leaned over the surface with her bottom sticking out, probably unintentionally, to give Edward a perfect view of the red polka dot printed underwear she wore underneath her mini-skirt. Her pigtails tumbled around her cheeks as she spoke to the woman in her classic Bostonian accent.

"One cup'a hot cocoa an' a water, puh-lease!" She flashed the woman taking her order a brilliant smile. "Oh, and add an herbal tea, too." The woman nodded and took the dollar bills from Harley's hand and went to prepare their beverages. In a few moments the blonde was toting three cups back to the table. The Riddler wasn't looking at her as she came back and took the seat next to him, scooting the metal chair dangerously close so she pressed against his side. His thoughtful gaze was fixed out the window as he absently reached into his pocket and handed her a ten dollar bill.

"Here." Was all he accompanied the gesture with.

"Uh…" Harley stuttered and took ginger hold of the bill without pulling it free from his fingers.

"It's for the drinks." Edward explained, still not looking at her.

"They didn't cost that much, Eddie, and I really don't see why you need to—" She was cut off as his fingers pressed the bill into her hand and let go of the slim paper, folding themselves together in his lap. He turned to give her a slight smile and brief nod, seeming somewhat gentler than usual. If Harley had mentioned that to him he probably would have been a bit annoyed.

"Just take it." He tried to sound gruff but failed when his voice cracked slightly at the end.

"Well thanks, Eddie." The blonde piped and reached into her criminally V-necked lace shirt to tuck the bill into her flashy red bra. He just nodded again and scanned the table, just now realizing that the girl had chosen a table for not two but _three._

"Harley?" His voice was suddenly tough.

"Yes?"

"Who else is coming?"

"H-huh? Oh, well, gosh Eddie…" She batted her eyelashes romantically.

"_Who else is coming?_" He hissed. Harley took a deep breath, a little taken aback by his sudden irritation but figured it was rationalized. She pursed her lips and went on to respond but was immediately cut off by a raspy purr.

"Now, now, Edward. No need to get snippy with the girl, you know she's just trying to help despite her obvious foolishness at trying to trick us both." Poison Ivy's voice rumbled quietly.

"O-oh, hey'a Red, nice of you to join us!" Harley piped, nerves jingling about inside her stomach.

"Yes, charmed, I'm sure." Ivy didn't pay much regard to Harley as opposed to the man bristling with fury beside her. "Though I have to say I'm quite surprised to see this piece of scum tagging along on our date, Harley." Ivy's words came out in the same tone of hiss that Edward's had. Instead of wearing her usual leotard composed of leaves and flowers Ivy had changed for the occasion. She wore a floor length green summer dress with a floral print paired with vintage leather sandals. Her hair was pulled back into a casual braid with flowers poking out sporadically through the flaming red locks. The beauty of the woman didn't seem to deter Edward's thorough disgust with her.

"I can see that you're feeling characteristically bitchy as always, Ivy." Riddler's upper lip curled with revulsion.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Edward." She retorted viciously and the plants woven throughout her meticulously done braid began to wilt.

"I suppose this is my cue to leave, then." Riddler began to push out his chair but was stopped by the sudden vice grip of Harley's fingers around his wrist.

"By all means, if the man wants to go, let him leave, Harls." Ivy spat.

"No! Don't ya' understand? _This_is why I got you both to come here!" She trilled loudly, her voice pitching higher in volume. "Please stay, just for a minute, will ya'? Lemme explain." The desperate note in her voice accompanied by the look of fierce pleading in her eyes froze both villains in place. Riddler didn't move his chair any further and fixed the blonde with an unreadable stare. Ivy gave an exasperated huff and plopped herself down at the table beside Harley, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.

"We're listening." She rasped, agitated. Harley looked between them both and gave a soft squeak knowing full well that she was under the sort of intense pressure that she hated.

"You two are both my good friends and ya' know how I hate to see ya' fight," She paused and made sure to make direct eye contact with both of them.

"Well, he's an idiot." Ivy sniffed.

"Yeah? Well, you're a bitch." Edward retorted angrily. "And my IQ is marginally higher than yours so clearly your definition of 'idiot' is skewed. But it's what I'd expect from someone as primitive as yourself."

"_Primitive?_" Ivy seethed.

"You wear leaves, girl. You're kind of asking for an insult."

"Oh, that is _it_! I _refuse_to sit here while you—you little piece of _shit_—insult my plants, my babies!"

"Biologically impossible for them to be your babies, I'd say." Riddler crossed his legs, satisfied. "Unless of course you learned how to fuck a tulip." Ivy's face went red with anger as the words tumbled unrestricted from Edward's lips. Her green eyes flashed something strikingly primal, feral, and utterly animalistic.

"You shitting little **prick**!" Ivy's voice rasped in a restrained roar. The petals began to fall from the lilacs woven into the braid, curling to the floor with what seemed like a sigh of discontent. When the Riddler opened his lips, a devilish sort of gratification shining in his stare, Harley realized she couldn't take anymore.

"Eddie, please…" She reached up to touch his cheek gently. Immediately he tensed and was quiet, his teeth clenching together. "Stop it."

"That's right, be a good boy and listen to the little girl, you cocky bastard." Ivy bristled. Riddler began to retort but was suddenly interrupted by Harley's objecting pleas.

"STOP FIGHTING!" She shrieked, a deafening silence falling over the coffee shop shortly after. Ivy abruptly swung her head to fix the blonde with a pitying stare and Edward pursed his lips and tilted his chin towards Harley in a gesture of submission.

"Stop fighting, guys!" She whimpered again. "_This_is why I wanted you both to come here, so you wouldn't fight anymore!" She flailed her arms wildly with tears in her eyes. "I need you both, I need you so much!" She threw her head down on the table furiously and wept into her arms. Her back shook with the effort, spinal cartilage indenting the skin of her back through the thin lace of her shirt. She felt a warm hand on her back and assumed it was Ivy's slender pale green one. She pressed into the touch gratefully.

"We just don't get along, Harley dear. That's all. You can't do anything to change that." Ivy pressed her lips to the blonde's ear comfortingly. Harley shivered as another hand was added to the small of her back. That hand was larger and warmer to the touch than Ivy's cold one had been. She felt it trace over the lace of her shirt, awkwardly at first but growing in it's gentle pressure. Harley shifted her gaze to look at the Riddler with a slight appreciative smile as he continued to touch her lower back. The three of them remained like that for a moment before Harley spoke.

"You don't get along and that's okay. But you both love me. That's why you stayed." Her voice was soft. Neither of the two objected, they simply looked at each other with conflicted stares. Ivy glanced coolly at the man with passivity, as if daring him to question her devotion to the girl. Edward on the other hand was visibly flustered. His cheeks had gone hot all the way to the beginning of his mossy colored tie with splotches of embarrassed red erupting on his neck and tainting his pale skin. His eyes shifted back and forth as if a big secret had been discovered but Ivy said nothing to call him out. They had one thing in common and it was their feelings for the endearing, crying girl in front of them. Neither of them had been able to refute her invitation to coffee. Neither of them had been able to say no to assisting her plan for revenge. Their love for the distraught blonde was too strong and it was the only bond the two shared.

"We all want to kill Bats, but if you two are fighting the whole time we're working together it's not gonna work." Harley continued, her voice high and distressed. "The plan'll fall apart and there's not gonna be anything I can do to stop it. I need both of you on the same side an' I need you to stop fighting." She begged. Her baby blue eyes turned to look deep into their souls, taking them apart and searching their minds for any source of discontent. None surfaced. "Do it for me, just until the plan's done with and I've gotten my revenge. Do it for me." She repeated in a nearly inaudible whisper.

"You know I love you Harley. I would do…anything for you." Ivy replied after a moment, her green eyes pouring out sincerity. She shifted her gaze to Edward, gaze hardening ever-so-slightly as she spoke. "Even tolerating this sorry excuse for a man for a short time."

"Gee, Ivy, don't be so complimentary, you flatter me." Riddler rolled his eyes with an unhappy snort and a decisive shake of his head.

"Eddie?" Harley whispered, laying her cheek on the back of her hand as she stared at him with pleading eyes. Edward sighed and looked away.

"As if I have a choice." He muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.

"What was that, boy-genius?" Ivy wore an amused smirk on her greenish lips.

"Shut it, plant bitch." He shot her a cold glare before turning his attention back to Harley. When he looked at the blonde his gaze softened and turned into something unreadable and cloudy. "I'll tolerate her presence until we're done with this. I give you my word."

"Your word's as good as gold, Ed. Thank ya'." Harley reached out to take his hand and press it chastely to her lips. Edward made an embarrassed choking sound and tried to look away from her transfixing blue eyes. Beside them, Ivy curled her fingers in one of Harley's pigtails and twirled the locks around idly.

"Men are pigs—control yourself, Edward, your leaking arousal if I ever smelled it." Riddler began to sputter and pulled his hand out of a confused Harley's grip, reaching up to straighten his shirt, disgruntled.

"Be nice, Pammie." Harley giggled softly, her eyes combing over the Riddler's lanky body flirtatiously, all traces of previous distress seemingly gone.

"Just stating a fact, dear." Ivy tossed a stray lock of red hair behind her ear and rose from her seat elegantly. "I think it's about time I leave, but it was a pleasure to join you." She spoke chiefly to Harley, picking up the herbal tea that the girl had ordered for her and spared a look at the auburn haired man. "My regards, Edward." She sniffed, taking her eyes away from him as soon as they had rested upon his face. But it was acknowledgement nonetheless and that was good enough for Harley.

"Catch ya' later, Red!" Harley waved and blew a kiss to the woman which the redhead returned with a wink. Edward simply gave a nod as she left and rose to a standing position as well.

"It was kind of you to invite me here, despite the unfortunate circumstances. Next time perhaps you would be considerate enough to give a guy a head's up." He sniffed and stared at the blonde. Harley gave him a knowing smile and shrugged.

"Ya' wouldn't have come if I'd have told ya' about Ivy being here."

"True. Still, a little bit of a warning so perhaps I would be able to avoid such occurrences in the future."

"Hah, sure, Eddie." She smiled as she watched Riddler's lips quirk into a smirk. She stood and gathered him into a fleeting hug and pecked his cheek before she pulled away. "I 'preciate your help, ya' know."

"I know." He nodded curtly.

"Talk to you later then?"

"Of course." He replied with a slight smile which transformed his face into something that reminded the girl of certain familiar angular features and pale white skin. Harley swallowed hard and shook her head, reaching up to brush her fingers lightly over his cheekbone. Edward didn't move but arched an eyebrow quizzically. After a moment of seeing the Joker's face replace the Riddler's, she saw the image come shattering to reveal the fact she was caressing her friend's cheek gently. She immediately drew away like she had been shocked and looked down, slightly embarrassed. Edward cleared his throat and pulled back, turning to exit the shop with a final glance back at the blonde.

If he had looked close enough, if his stare had lingered just a moment more, he would have seen the tears beginning to well in the corners of her eyes.

* * *

_I've been living in the state of dreaming  
living in a make-believe land  
living in the state of dreaming, of dreaming, of dreaming_


	8. Fright Night

**A/N: **I've been meaning to update this forever, but guys, this is seriously one monster of a chapter.

I had lots of wonderful assistence from the beautifullll _KayMoon24_on this one!

As a sidenote, Scarecrow really freaks me out...

Many thanks to ALL my lovely reviewers and readers, ya'll are the best! ^.^

* * *

_I watched it all in my head, perfect sense.__  
__They'll take me from me my bed,__  
__Leave everything that is worth a single cent and just take me instead._

* * *

Steps creaked beneath her feet with the weight she placed carefully upon them. Small splinters tugged at her pale skin as her hand slid down the banister. Harley drew her hand away as she stared into the engulfing darkness of the basement.

It had begun with a call that had taken place earlier. A call to the one man she didn't want to ask for help but knew she had to.

_She twisted her black skirt in her fingertips, pulling the fabric through her painstakingly polished nails, black sparkles glinting off of them in the sunlight that shone through the small window of the apartment. The phone rang beside her ear and pressed against her flesh with the vibrations. The other line began to crackle at the fourth, indicating someone had picked up the call, but nothing sufficed to show that there was another presence. Harley drew in a deep breath, her chest expanding against her shirt with the effort._

"_C-crane? Are you there?" She cursed the tremor in her voice. There was nothing to be heard but ragged breathing on the other end of the phone. "It's me, Harley Quinn." She pressed further._

"_Yes, I am aware." His voice cut smooth across the line. It drew a startled intake of breath from Harley as she scooted backwards in her chair, tensing. He wasn't there, wasn't even in the room with her and she was frightened. The scraping tone of his voice—oh god, just his_breathing_—did something to her insides that made her feel nauseas and jittery. She toyed with the hem of her skirt more, eyes darting back to her nail polish as she shifted a finger to pick at the black paint._

"_I had something I wanted to talk about with ya'. Think maybe we could meet somewhere?" Ignore the pleading, she begged inwardly. Maybe he didn't hear the desperation, she tried to fool herself._

"_I am a very busy man, Harley." It almost came across as an admonishment. The blonde curled into herself on the chair, kicking her legs beneath her in something resembling a sitting fetal position. "But I am a curious man as well," there was an audible sigh, "So I suppose I could make some time for you if you like to visit here."_

"_Your house, ya' mean?" Her insides twisted more, her stomach becoming a mess of bundled organs._

"_It is passable for a house, but not at most a home," another sigh, "But I've been quite bored lately. Perhaps a visitor could create a spark of interest for me." His voice was sickeningly sweet. No, maybe it wasn't even sweet, just filled with the slick syrup that he coated all of his words with. They seemed to ooze easily from his throat, dipping carefully into the ears of his victims almost as if romancing them to their doom. Her legs quivered beneath her at the thought of having to visit him._

"_I-I…" She stuttered before her voice completely choked off. Her eyes settled on a tie discarded in the corner of the room. It was bright green, electric in shade, the only color in the monochromatic dull apartment. The fabric was curled like it had been crumpled and tossed there. She had thought she'd moved all remnants of the Joker to their bedroom, stuffed inside their closet so she could pick and chose when to pull the artifacts close and rip her own heart to pieces. She had missed a piece, apparently. She stood slowly, the phone still pressed to her ear. Jonathan Crane didn't speak, his slow breathing against the receiver the only indication he was still there, as she bent to pick up the Joker's tie. She held it loosely in her fingertips as the dirty silk slid through the pads. "I'll be there around 3 o'clock." Harley suddenly muttered into the phone, determination taking over. Her eyes fixed the tie with a stare, her stomach protesting against the ache that tore into it, realizing that facing her fear of the Scarecrow would be the only true way to help her reach her ultimate goal._

_Revenge._

She walked down the stairs slowly to the basement where Crane had instructed her to go. He said he spent most of his time down there, carelessly inviting her to let herself in. His house was open to her, he had said. _Be welcome, let yourself in_, his voice had caressed at the tendrils of twisted organs in her gut. Darkness licked at the outside corners of her eyes, her pupils dilating to the size of saucers as they tried to adjust to the nearly pitch blackness. She heard the sound of something scuttling across the floor and cringed against the wall with a brief shriek.

Then the laughter came.

Not sweet laughter, like her Puddin's, but something vicious. Something traumatic that was spoken about in hushed tones, looked upon with distain, and appeared only in Grimm's Fairytales and children's nightmares. Harley began to quiver and continued her trek down the stairs.

At least she knew she wasn't alone.

"Jonathan?" She called into the darkness, eyes searching in vain through the void to find some sort of outline of a figure. Another laugh, followed by the clinking of iron. Metal tools against some sort of wooden bench. The sound was muffled, but the click was still there. Her heart hammered in her chest. Why was she so _scared_?

"Afraid of the dark, Harley?" Crane's voice called softly. The echo from the walls in the basement illuminated her hearing and she turned to her left where the sound was indicated from. She swallowed hard and took a step forward.

Onto something soft. She squeaked along with whatever it was she had stepped on, hearing it's nails scrape on the cement as it crawled away.

"Sorry, I may have neglected to mention there are rats down here." Crane's voice sounded amused. Amused by the rodent's hurt, her fear, or general circumstances in, general Harley wasn't quite sure.

"Ah, thanks for the head's up." She pursed her lips together in distain and took another hesitant step forward.

"Some people use sarcasm as a defense mechanism when they're frightened." He observed, still speaking from the dark corner. "Tell me, Harleen, what is it that's got you so scared?"

"Not scared, just got the heeby-jeebies." She protested immediately. Never show weakness, she remembered from her days training as a gymnast. Never show you're not good enough—all you have to do is fake it. "I'm not partial to rats."

"Or me, it would seem. I could smell your fear from the moment you opened the door to the stairs." He was wrong. She'd been scared a lot longer than just that. On the car ride there she had been a basket case.

"I am _not_scared." Her red lips pressed together tightly and the skin at their corners puckered sourly. There was another short laugh, then the squeaking of a chair. Metal hinges groaned under the weight of whatever left it and suddenly there was a 'pop' and the smallest flickering of a dim light bulb. A shadow was shortly illuminated—the contorted, skinny body of a sickly man—but as soon as it was there, it was gone when the light sputtered away.

"It's useless trying to lie to me. I can see it in your face, the arch of your brow, the way you carry yourself." His voice was soft and haunting.

"You can't see me," Harley spat, suddenly irritated. "It's too dark for me to see my own feet!" Merry laughter followed her outrage.

"I can picture you…quite perfectly though, Harleen…" He purred. Desperately, she looked around and reached out a tentative arm in front of her, searching for a wall, a railing, a light,_anything_ to relieve her fear. Her fingers connected with hard plastic to her left, a notch poking out from it, wiggling beneath her clammy palm. _A light switch_. She exhaled gratefully, immediately flicking the device upward.

A burst of light filled the basement before dimming down lifelessly, the only brightness remaining from the nearly burnt-out blub in the center of the room. Next to a large chair stood Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, a thin man worn away by years of pain. His features were silhouetted and hard to see, but his beady eyes bore directly into Harley's. His reedy lips were parted to reveal two rows of jagged teeth, a shadow cast upon the pale skin on his upper lip from his hawkish, slanted nose. Harley drew in a deep breath as she stared, taking a step forward towards him.

She was strong, she came there for a purpose, and it could not be forgotten.

"Oh my, you look determined Doctor Quinzel." Jonathan's tone treaded lightly, easing into the vague, wispy light. With his comment, it felt as if all her strength came crashing down around her. Reality dissipated around her in waves and she found herself lost in the past.

"_My, you look determined Doctor Quinzel." Jonathan Crane called from the back of his cell in Arkham Asylum, curled into his strait-jacket. His lips were pressed into a line as he watched his therapist enter the room, taking a seat in the metal chair across from him. He pulled his legs beneath him, almost as a hesitant child would, and tilted his head back. His chestnut hair was in need of a trim and fell into his eyes. Harleen greeted him with a half-smile and an irritated glance._

"_Afternoon, Mister Crane." She straightened her skirt professionally. It peeked higher when she crossed her legs to reveal the soft skin of her knees._

"_I see you're being formal today as opposed to going with the usual 'Jonathan.'" His lips quirked, twitching into something that could have been reminiscent of a smile on someone else. "Any particular reason for that, Doctor?"_

"_No." She answered curtly, her pen scrawling across the page. She avoided his eyes as he spoke. The sessions between them had been getting increasingly tense as he pressed her further, asking more and more questions she deemed unprofessional. The pen froze on the paper as she heard the crinkling of his strait-vest locks as he leaned forward, neck muscles contorting._

"_It wouldn't have anything to do with the blossoming relationship between you and the clown, would it?" His eyes glinted._

"_Excuse me?" She snapped, her heartbeat increasing suddenly. Her blue eyes flashed with surprise._

"_You heard me." He leaned back passively, his shoulders rolling underneath the white jacket sheet._

"_I don't know what you're talking about." The blonde murmured, reaching up a hand to stroke back her hair subconsciously. Today, she had tied the wheat colored locks into two perfectly styled pigtails. Her ears rung guiltily with the familiar words of one of her patients._

"Looks awful nice when ya' do your hair in those ol' piggy-tails, Doc!" _The Joker had said with a laugh. She shook her head, turning her attention back to the instigating man in front of her._

"_An empty claim, you speak, when you walk around with your hair in that ridiculous childish fashion like that simply because the clown fancies it." Jonathan tilted his chin upwards in a motion of power. His glasses slipped lower on the bridge of his nose as he gazed at the woman coolly._

"_How do you know about that?" She whispered quietly, taken off guard. That had been said in a private therapy session. How could he possibly know about_that_?_

"_It's a small asylum, Miss. Word gets around quickly, you of all people should realize that." His voice was low and raspy. It came across Harleen's ears in the most unpleasant way, grating at her insides, twisting around the bundle of nerves in her stomach. His eyes examined her with scrutiny, an intense gaze full of something that intimidated her to the point of making her fidget in the seat. He was_her _patient, not the other way around._

_Sometimes it was hard to remember that when he looked at her with that scathing stare._

_She swallowed hard. Anxiously. Her throat felt raw._

"_That doesn't answer my question. Who told you what he said to me? There are strict rules about patient and therapist confidentiality." Harleen chastised weakly, trying to grapple back on to her position of power. She felt herself falling, her self control crumbling, as his lips curled into a sickening smile. It was nothing like the comfortingly creepy red grins the Joker gave to her in private. This was a chilling smile of unholy satisfaction at her pain. Her fear._

_A shiver ran up her spine as he answered._

"_Why, you did, Doctor Quinzel." He cocked his head to the side if the answer was obvious. The stubble on his chin quivered with the smile as it curved higher on his lips. It wasn't often Jonathan Crane was so giddy. Harleen bristled with anger._

"_What?" She managed after a ticking beat of silence._

"_You told me just now. I never actually knew if the clown liked your hair like that, it was as easy guess. But you've confirmed all my suspicions now with your discomfort."_

"_I…I don't…" Harleen stumbled over her words, her face flushing hotly. Jonathan knocked his head against the wall behind him, his twig-like legs brushing against each other as he slouched his posture._

"_It didn't take much to make me catch on. A glance you gave him here or there, the way you would defend him when the others insulted him, the way you blush when his name comes up in our sessions." He listed off lazily. Harleen was stunned into near speechlessness. Her eyes brimmed with the familiar burning sensation of tears. "Patient favoritism is strictly forbidden, you know." His thin brows arched as his eyes fluttered closed tiredly._

"_Are you threatening me?" Her voice quivered with fury and uncertainty. Immediately his eyelids snapped open and his lips parted into something that looked like a snarl, but was probably his best attempt at a malicious grin._

"_Oh no, dear Doctor. If I was threatening you, you wouldn't be asking. You would know. I'm merely….making conversation."_

_A sickening sense of dread pulled a taught knot in the pit of Harleen's stomach as her vision was filled with thoughts of the Joker._

"_C-conversation?" She sputtered._

"_Yes, of course. A typical human interaction of the social sort." He closed his eyes again, seemingly uninterested. "So, what are your plans, Miss? Bust the clown out of here, and you two live happily ever after? That seems very unlikely, if you don't mind me saying. He would probably kill you first, actually."_

"_Stop." Harleen commanded, but her voice shook with tremors and her hands jittered with nervousness._

"_Oh, I'm simply asking for a little more information, since we're both in on your little 'secret' now." His lower lip twitched as his tongue protruded, wetting it with saliva, making the cracks in the skin much more evident. His skin looked pale and sickly, his cheeks hollow and gaunt. He was such a frail man but struck an untamable fear in the girl nonetheless._

"_I don't have any plans." She replied quietly, knowing protesting further was useless. Jonathan opened one eye to peek at the girl, studying her for a moment before peeling the other lid open as well. His back cracked with the movement when he suddenly leaned forward, head coming towards the girl to stare at her, eyes level with her forehead. The smell that radiated off of him could only be described as something lifeless and deathly. It reeked of the asylum, and Talc powder—what he used on his skin, she assumed._

"_How stupidly_foolish _that I didn't realize it right away. How ignorant, how blind." He muttered, his eyes lighting up with genuine curiosity. "Tell me, Doctor Quinzel, how you think that you plan to cure the clown?" Her blood quickened in her veins as he spoke viciously._

"_I…" She whispered and turned her face away, guilty._

"_How the hell do you think you can cure that psychopathic son of a bitch? He's as crazy as they come, even more insane than I." Distaste painted his features with hatred. A grimace was frozen on his lips in near disbelief._

"_Right now, I would disagree with that." Harleen's eyes widened, big doe-eyes, that shone with innocence and pained guilt. She resisted the urge to shudder when he shifted closer to her._

"_No, no." His voice was soft. "Curing that monster is impossible, you must realize that. You're a smart girl, a bit ditzy, but you're genuine. I can see it. Also, your neck muscles twitch in a more pleasant fashion when you lie, so it's most useless to be dishonest." He smirked, smug. "You deserve a fate much gentler than what he could give to you. With him you'll find nothing but misery and death as far as the eye can see."_

"_That's not true."_

"_You know I'm right."_

"_I don't."_

"_Give up on him, and leave this place." He hissed, suddenly angry. "These halls will corrupt you, girl. You have no place in the minds of the insane."_

"_I can help…" Her voice was soft, pleading with the madman in front of her. She found no comfort in his darkening irises._

"_You can't cure him, no one can. The clown doesn't want to be cured. His whole world is laughter and delusion." He leaned back, bored and tired. A sigh escaped his parted lips as he stared at the girl lifelessly. His hair was dull and matted. The strait-jacket clinging to his body was stained with assorted yellow spots. He was sick. Just as everyone else in the asylum. "He's happier that way, you know. And he'll ruin you, dragging you down until you're just as insane as he is."_

"_No." Harleen squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling, but he had already broken her. A droplet of moisture dripped onto her lashes and down across her cheek, streaking her face that had turned pale long moments ago._

"_Hush now, don't cry." His chilling voice rang through her ears, reminding her in a sickening way of the children's song her mother had sung to her as a baby. "You know what I'm saying is true, and it scares you."_

"_I'm not scared."_

"_Ah, but you lie. I can see it in your face. I can always see it…"_

Harley's eyes snapped open and she realized she was now laying down. Panic threaded through her body as she looked around her wildly, the dim lighting obscuring her vision.

"Hush now, don't cry." Jonathan Crane whispered from above her. Her blue eyes flitted back to stare at his gaunt face, his cheekbones protruding unhealthily from his graying skin. He had once been handsome, she remembered, frightened. He was some sort of monster, now. Her hands grasped onto the sides of the chair, the plastic creaking beneath her nervous clutching. She hadn't noticed the tears that were hopelessly falling from her eyes until then. A cold finger brushed across her cheek and she flinched away from touch and sat up in the chair, her legs buckling apprehensively. Wires poked into her back, the springs of the chair hurting her muscles as she moved, stocky stuffing protruding from rips in the leather fabric of the eroding dentist's seat.

"Crane, I…" She whispered hoarsely, trying to avoid his gaze. His lanky frame stood near her, hands twitching at his sides. He reminded her of a reformed heroin addict, still paranoid and jittery, skinny as a twig with yellowing skin, a decaying body that still lived. Her stomach twisted painfully as she toyed with her fingers.

"Tell me, Harleen. What is it that you fear most?" He spoke over her in his usual rasp. The whites of his eyes seemed to be dark in the dim light.

"I don't see what that has ta'do with anything." Harley shifted her attention away from him.

"It has to do with everything, foolish girl. Fear is the center of the universe, it dominates everyone's thoughts at nearly every waking moment, coming out when as you fade into a dream-like REM cycle," He stalked around the chair so he was behind her, his hands raising to his hips, palms open to the ceiling. "It never disappears, it never goes away. It has to do with _everything_."

"Fantastic." Harley muttered sarcastically, her lips twisting into a grimace.

"It is, isn't it?" Jonathan mused, lost deep in thought.

"Jonny, I came to ask for—"

"I heard about the Joker." A shiver ran up her spine as she felt his hand press against the small of her back. She dared not move in fear of his hand moving elsewhere. It curved around her hip to touch the skin her midriff revealed. "If you ask me, the clown had it coming."

"Shut yer mouth." Harley barked, suddenly empowered.

"Ah, I see I've struck a nerve." His hand trembled lightly on the hem of her pants. Harley still did not move. Fear coursed through her body as he neared her, his breath hot on her hair. "Does death scare you, Harleen?"

"No." She replied calmly. Confidently. She had never been scared to die—not since she met her Puddin'.

"I see you're not lying." His other hand caressed her neck gently, his dirty fingernails grazing over her pulse. "You don't fear pain either, obviously. You were with the clown enough to build up a certain tolerance to physical discomfort."

"Crane, I really need to—"

"Does it scare you that he's gone?" She froze. "Does your love for him scare you? Does the fact that you still need him, even though you can never have him again, frighten you?" His nails tightened on the skin of her hip. Her lips puckered into a frown as she raised a shaky hand to her lips to stifle a gasp. Her fingertips smeared the red of her lips onto her skin in a mess of blotchy smudges. She didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to care. Everything felt numb.

"Stop it."

"You are scared, aren't you?" He pressed on. "You're petrified of that deep attachment, that horrible love. And it hurts you, doesn't it?" Harley shook, trembling in his grasp, and tried to wriggle away.

"_You're_scaring me, _you're_hurting me!" She cried out as he let her slide from his grip. She stood and backed up against the wall like a frightened animal.

"No, dear girl, I'm not. I speak only the truth." A vicious bark that could have a been a chuckle tumbled free of his lips. On them he wore a smirk. It was ugly in place of what should have been a smile. "With the Joker gone, it makes everything so much easier, don't you see?"

"No, I don't." She whimpered, letting fear take over, pulsating through her brain. The basement reeked of a sour stench along with the familiar haunting scent of Talc powder. A shudder took over her petite frame.

"Let me explain, then." He purred, locking his gaze unnervingly with hers. "Gotham is free of a leader to dominate its crime circle. Without a ringleader like the Joker to lead the twisted circus, everyone will think they're safe. All their fear will be eased, lulling them into a sense of false complacency. That is where I come in. I will take over, show them the true meaning of fear. I can take Gotham, have it be mine at last." He spat, saliva flicking over his lips as he ranted. Evil shone in his eyes, something pure and untainted. Nothing like what she ever saw in the Joker. He killed for kicks, for pranks, for laughs. Scarecrow was out for bloody fear. Gruesome and horrible, he wanted them to suffer. To suffer without laughs or smiles in their last moments, their dying breaths spent without cheer.

Harley drew in a breath, feeling her knees buckle weakly beneath her. Her body was failing on her and she could do nothing to stop it. Her eyes grazed over the man in front of her who was looking upon her with such distain, such a need for vengeance.

"Harleen, you could help me."

The worlds reminded her so much of the reason she had come to him for. To enlist him to help kill the Batman. But her purpose was discarded long ago, her need for his help suddenly seeming ignorant that she would accept assistance from such a corrupted madman.

Even more corrupted than Harley herself.

"I won't help you, I have my own goals." She declined.

"You would be my Mistress of Fear, don't you see how wonderful that would be? How thrilling to see the faces of all of Gotham go under with such foolish security, only to be choked with their own inner demons moments later!" He cackled, a harsh bark, something Harley never wanted to hear again. She peeled herself off the wall and began to tremble as she tried to ease her way to the door without him seeing.

"I'm sorry…I can't help you…" She whispered, terrified. The man hadn't once been so broken, so corrupted. Perhaps it had been his own fear that had done him in. Abruptly, Jonathan's hands came up from his sides, grabbing something from the back of the chair and fumbling with it in his hands. It was a flimsy burlap material that he brought to his face a second later, staring at it first with fervor and worship before he donned the mask.

In front of her no longer stood Jonathan Crane, but now Scarecrow. The man now wore his true mask on the outside, just as the Joker had done. He was transformed into something ugly, something so corrupt that not even the girl who had once been his friend, his therapist, could bring him back even as he stood in front of her so broken. His shoulders shook, whether with mirthful laughter or anxious twitches, she couldn't tell. Fear had taken over him. The fear of the man silhouetted in the night, spreading his cape like the many animals that flocked to him, taking his ghostly flight.

The Batman had taken him from her, too.

She gave a startled cry as he moved towards her, mask contorting in her vision into something so ugly she couldn't stop the tears. She shrieked louder as he reached out his hands to grab for her, ducking and making a run towards the stairs. She reached the railing just as she felt his hands grasp her shoulders, spinning her towards him. In his pocket, she saw a small back of familiar white powder.

Since she wouldn't help him, he planned to kill her.

He wanted to kill her with what she feared the most.

She screamed and yanked herself free of him, jerking up a knee to kick him hard in the gut. He doubled over at once and she fled up the stairs, slamming the door to the basement behind her. She heard his thundering footsteps following behind her, but the months she had spent running terrified from the Dark Knight was training enough. Adrenaline took over and she ran out the front door, down the porch of the house and out to the taxi parked in the driveway waiting for her. She didn't pay attention to the man following her, or the way the cab driver's eyes widened with unbidden fear when he saw the masked Scarecrow chasing after his passenger. She pried the door handle open and threw herself into the car, yelling loud as she went.

"DRIVE!" She shouted, and the driver obeyed, throwing the car sharply into reverse and pulling out of the driveway just as Scarecrow had landed his hands on the hood of the car, his white fear powder spraying everywhere. The wheels of the vehicle screeched loudly on the road as the driver pulled out, Harley breathing heavily in the backseat. They sped away from the house, the driver muttering under his breath.

"This job doesn't pay enough to do this…" He muttered, taking the turn harshly, sending the blonde sliding towards the window.

Harley ignored him and leaned back into the cushions of the leather interior, her panicked eyes gazing out the window. She drew in a shuddering breath, realizing that without even using his tools or weapons of fear, Jonathan Crane had broken her.

For the first time that day, it didn't surprise her when the tears began to fall from her eyes.

* * *

_I think I found out that I have nothing,__  
__That I have nothing in this place for me._

* * *

**A/N: **Hell, I would have been running out of that house of horrors the second I set foot in there.

Reviews would be devine, m'lovelies. :)


	9. A Call's Interlude

**A/N: **I literally cannot resist writing about the Riddler.

I'm so obsessed with that man.

This is just a brief interlude. Next chapter I'll be back with a good ol' fun baddie that I think everyone will enjoy! :D

* * *

_I'll be by your side__  
__Wherever you fall__  
__In the dead of night__  
__Whenever you call__  
__And please don't fight__  
__These hands that are holding you__  
__My hands are holding you_

* * *

He walked into the sparse kitchen of his tiny apartment.

It wasn't often that Edward Nigma found himself disturbed by the silence.

Even more seldom that he felt himself aching for companionship.

He heaved a sigh, an amused chuckle falling loosely from his lips along with it. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his plaid pajama pants, trotting over to the dirty window of his living room. The full moon shone bright, almost a glowing yellow, in the dark night sky. It was late. Very late. But sleep refused to take him.

His eyes strayed to the book of crossword puzzles on the table, debating whether or not to complete it. It was the third book he'd gone through this week. Typically he wasn't so bored. Or, perhaps it wasn't boredom that gripped him, but simply restlessness.

It was as if he was waiting for something.

A loud ringing from the phone resting on the counter jarred him from his thoughts. He cursed and picked the receiver up almost immediately.

"Hello?"

"_E-Eddie?"_Harley Quinn's voice whimpered on the other end of the line. His eyebrows scrunched together in a tight line, wrinkling the skin of his forehead, and he strained to hear the girl.

"Harley? It's unbelievably late," His eyes strayed to the clock hanging loosely from the wall, looking like it would drop from the nail that held it any second. "Half past two o'clock AM, to be exact." He pointed out, trying not to chide her.

"_I-I know, I just d-didn't know who else to call…"_ Her voice was little more than a pained whisper.

"Why are you crying?" His lips pressed into a thin line and his green eyes clouded over uncertainly.

"_I-I…"_The girl stammered. It was pitiful the way she stuttered, he couldn't help thinking. The way she had no idea what to say, it was childish, but Riddler couldn't bring himself to hang up the line. He couldn't even bring himself to admit that her call was wasting his time. At the least, it was a bit uplifting to his restlessness.

"Spit it out, Harley." He sighed irately. "You know I'm not a patient man."

"_I miss him, oh God,_ _I miss him and it hurts!"_ Her voice reached a feverish pitch as she suddenly exclaimed into the phone. Her voice grated on something deep inside of Edward, something he didn't care to be brought out. Even more, the words she spoke gave him a sort of sickening pang in the depths of his heart. She called _him_to rant about that stupid son of a bitch clown? He thought all the dependency was over, considering the Joker was dead.

Apparently not.

"That's…rather unfortunate." He flopped into the reclining chair of his living room, kicking his wiry legs onto the ottoman in front. His head tilted back, uninterested, and he reached up a hand absently to brush back the auburn hair on his forehead. He reached on the table beside him for his reading glasses and picked up the newspaper from the arm of the chair.

"_Have you ever felt like that, Eddie? Missed someone so much that it's painful?_" Harley whined, her voice muffled, by a tissue she held to her eyes, Edward assumed.

"Hm? I don't find human attachment to be of value, so, no." He answered half-heartedly, his eyes scanning the reports in the paper, his attention only partially on the girl on the other end of the receiver.

"_I just…I feel like I can't live without 'im!"_She continued to ramble. Edward felt his back teeth gnashing together with irritation. Clown this, Joker that. Didn't she ever shut up about that abhorrent imbecile of a corpse?

"I suppose psychologically you could subscribe to the theory of dependence on another person, but as far as living goes…I think you'll be just fine." He stared at the newsprint with clear irritation. "But, this is all beside the point. It's late, I would like to go to bed, what do you want, Harley?"

There was a shuddering pause on the other end of the phone. He heard her draw in a breath, her teeth chattering together. He could picture her clearly, her black make-up smudged and running down her opalescent cheeks, blonde hair a shambled mess. He glanced down at his hands, realizing they were clutching the ends of the paper so hard it crumpled beneath his grip. Loosening his fingers, he shifted the phone on his shoulder, pressing his ear down to it to hear her response.

"_I need you, Eddie…"_She whispered so quietly he thought for a moment he imagined it. His heartbeat began to quicken and his posture erected nearly immediately. He blinked a few times, his brows knitting together once again in genuine confusion.

No one had ever needed him before.

"…What?" His lips twisted together in a grimace.

"_I can't be alone, I'm so lonely, I'm so scared. I hate this fuckin' apartment without him, he's_everywhere_! I need…I neeed…"_She choked off, a sob taking over her shrill voice. As if on reflex, he reached out a hand to stroke the air in front of him, a part of him wishing that she was standing in front of him, and another part wishing that he had the resolve to hang up the damn phone.

"I…" His throat went dry. Something inside of him was weakening. Something inside of him hurt. Something in front of him hated.

He didn't know how to feel.

He much preferred numbness to confusion.

"Just…don't cry, please." His hands had developed a mind of their own, reaching to the table beside of him for his car keys.

Should he go to see her?

He cursed under his breath as she continued to sob on the other end of the phone.

"Harley!" He barked sharply. Hearing a pained squeak, he instantaneously regretted snapping, and tried to quell his anger. "My apologies, it's very hard to hear you with all that crying." He spoke through gritted teeth, eyes darting quickly down to the keys in his hand.

He shouldn't go see her.

Was it wrong that he wanted to?

Human companionship meant nothing, he repeated to himself.

_I need you…_ her words played in his ears.

It meant nothing.

Nothing.

Right?

He dropped his head into his hands, heaving a sigh.

It was pointless to lie to himself. He rose from his seated position and walked to foyer, halfway to the door, before hesitating again.

"Harley, should I…" He began to ask, feeling ignorant for trying to comfort her—even having the desire to.

"_Eddie, I—oh, shit, I'm so sorry."_She gasped abruptly, as if snapping out of a daze. He had reached the door now, hand pausing on the metal handle.

"Hm?" He grunted, staring down the door indecisively.

"_Listen, I didn't mean to…oh, jeepers, I'm awful sorry 'bout this, Ed. I didn't mean to freak out like that, I—awh, man, you should go to bed. It's late, I should hang up."_

His pulse hammered in his neck.

"What? Not just a moment ago you were clearly having a severe panic attack, and I thought you needed—" She cut him off mid-sentence.

"_Y-yeah, I know, I don't know what came over me. Just feelin' a li'l sad, I guess. But I'm okay, for reals!"_He could hear the forced cheer she put in her tone. He could picture the tears that continued to fall from her eyes as she spoke.

He hated the twisting feeling in his gut that it gave him.

At the moment, he even hated her.

But he couldn't forget the words she had spoken so genuinely, so pleadingly.

_I need you._

Those words almost took his breath away.

"I was just on my way to—"

"_Please don't come check on me, Eddie."_Harley spoke surely, as if she had read his mind. _"Really."_

His heart sunk.

He felt like he had been made a fool of.

His cheeks flushed hotly and he spun away from the door, cold metal leaving his hand feeling empty.

"Fine." He replied curtly, trekking over to the living room once again.

"_I should go…"_Harley trailed off uncertainly.

"Fine." He supplied again.

"_Eddie, I…you're a good friend."_

Those words killed him more than anything in the world could have.

_Good friend._

That was all he would ever be.

His lips curled with distain and he faked a smile, regardless of the fact she couldn't see him. The Riddler would not be made a fool of.

"And regardless of all your flaws, I appreciate your friendship as well. Good night, Harley."

"_Nighty night, Eddie."_He hung up the phone as soon as her small, pained voice flitted dully through his ears.

He threw the phone on the counter, fury fueling his movements. Sadness ached through his lips, defeat pulling at his eyelids. He sunk into the reclining chair, exhaustion suddenly coursing through him. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, the same words floating through his head like a tape recorder.

_I need you._

_I need you._

_I need you._

For once, Edward Nigma felt the unwavering desire for human companionship, and admitted it to himself.

* * *

_Look at these hands at my side__  
__They swallowed the grave on that night__  
__When I drank the world's sin__  
__So I could carry you in__  
__And give you life__  
__I want to give you life_

* * *

**A/N: **I know _KayMoon24 _will share all my Riddley feels for this one.


	10. Whispered Folktales

**A/N: **I'll write more...promise I'll update this thing more often.

Really, I swear. :3

* * *

_Weave a secret__  
__I will sweep it__  
__Beneath the carpet__  
__Where you'll keep it__  
__How weak is that?__  
__Wish I was worth it__  
__To you_

* * *

_Water splashed onto the window and supplied dull background noise as Harley curled herself onto the window seat. She raised a hand, her index finger tracing the trails that the beads of moisture left. Her lips pursed into a thin line, vacant of any gloss or sparkle. Damp strands of bleached hair clung to her neck and shoulders. Her eyes seemed to belong to a child, round and as blue as the faded ocean, as she gazed out the window. Soft mutterings filled her ears, as it had for hours, and she allowed her attention to be taken by the man once again._

_The Joker paced around the room, nonsense syllables escaping his barely parted lips. His chest heaved as if he had just finished running a marathon, straining against his wrinkled dress shirt that was unbuttoned all the way to his navel. He wore nothing but a pair of plaid boxers that seemed to cling to his bony hips in a desperate fashion. His hand twisted in his hair, clenching and unclenching the green locks, yanking them up in a way that looked painful. He held a cigarette loosely in his free thumb and index finger, the thin roll shaking against his cracked lips. Harley didn't mention the jitter in his legs that she observed. She didn't pester him about the fact that he had gone through 3 packs of cigarettes in that day alone. She could do nothing but watch as the life and any semblance of sanity faded from the man's previously lively eyes. They now shone dim in the lighting of his office._

_A pang went through her heart and she tucked her bare legs underneath her. She reached down a hand to pull at her pink lace panties, tugging her oversized Winnie the Pooh sleep shirt lower to cover her exposed midsection._

"_Puddin'?" He didn't seem to hear her, regardless of the fact her voice was the only sound in the room besides his mutterings._

"_Batman, it's always been the Batman…" He whispered. Her brows knitted together in concern. Her slim finger continued to follow the trail of the raindrops._

"_Hey, Puddin'?" She tried again and got the same result._

"_Batman. Stupid Batman. S'all his fault, his fault…" He mumbled, ripping at his hair. She watched as a few green strands fell to the ground. The Joker didn't seem to notice the pain. Instead he took another long drag of his cigarette and puffed out smoke, a huge cough bubbling up from his chest, spattering saliva into his hand. He wiped it off idly on his pants._

"_Talk to me, Puddin'." Her voice was pleading. He ignored her. Or, maybe he wasn't ignoring her, but either way he didn't respond. He was gone, taken into some sort of daydream, away from the girl. She felt so lonely when this happened. It had been happening a lot, lately._

"_Batman, Bat-brain, idiotic Bat_fuck_." He cursed in a hiss. His white skin seemed paler than usual, an unhealthy sweaty sheen taking over his cheeks. She ran a hand idly though her hair, twisting a lock around her finger nervously._

"_Baby, please." She craned her neck to watch him. Suddenly, as if waking up from a trance, the Joker looked up at her, startled. His posture turned from slumped to erect and the shaking in his knees stopped. He shuffled over to her, his eyes calculating, as he studied his face. When she opened her mouth to speak again, she realized she could not as a sharp pain took over and she lifted a hand to stroke the cheek that the man had slapped._

_The Joker watched her with an animalistic curiosity as she let out a whimper but said nothing. There was no pleading like there usually was after his hits. There was no begging, no apologizing. She simply stared at him with her childish blue eyes, fingers curled around her quickly reddening skin. The jittering in his knees began again and he dropped his cigarette, smashing it into the wood with his bare foot, ignoring the singeing he felt in his skin._

_Harley gazed at him and watched as something flashed across his eyes. Something that was what he used to be, holding some semblance of her love, showing some sort of acknowledgement that he knew she was there._

"_Please." He repeated the word she had said moments ago. He meant something different. He stared at her, waiting. When she looked deeper into his irises, into his heart, she reached out to take his hands in her own. They were shaking too._

_Her lips quirked into that of a sad smile and she pulled him onto the window seat with her. It didn't matter the seat was too small and she was uncomfortably pressed against the glass. He climbed in next to her, body molding around her own, pressing his chest to her back. She pulled his arm around her waist, resting his fingers on her stomach. His fingers reached underneath the hem of her shirt to stroke the soft, warm skin of her stomach. Her lips parted in a sigh and she leaned back into him, tangling their legs together. He pushed his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her._

"_Please." He repeated, his voice harsh and rasping. Harley could smell the smoke on his breath and feel the insanity rising in his tone. He begged, but the girl could do nothing for him; do nothing but hold him close and pray that something would change._

_She looked out the window, one hand clutching at his tightly as another traced the trail of a falling raindrop._

"Miss Quinn?" A little voice questioned curiously. Harley blinked her eyes a few times, her lashes casting dark, mascaraed shadows on her ivory cheeks. She felt the rain seeping into her jacket as she froze in place in the middle of the sidewalk. The city bustled around her, not stopping as she did, stuck in a singular moment of time.

"Ah, sorry, what'd ya' say?" Harley questioned, looking down at her companion.

"I asked if you liked rainy days, dear girl?" The tinier man danced around her, pulling at her hand playfully, tilting up his face to give her a wide grin. His hands were grubby in hers—the small, dirty hands of a child who had been outside playing for too long.

"Sure, sometimes." Harley mused while her eyes drifted over Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, as he pulled her into the hat shop on the corner of the bustling street. His blonde hair peeked out from underneath as the door blew a gust of wind towards them, the drizzly summer afternoon allowing the sun to peek through for a short moment. Harley followed him inside, allowing him to lead her. She watched as he drew in a small gasp, pausing his step momentarily to look around him.

"Oh, this is terribly, _terribly_nice of you to take me to a hat shop. A hat shop! Oh-ho! How wonderfully spectacular, you do know my penchant for hats, my dear lovely, don't you!" His grin couldn't have been any wider. His yellowing jagged teeth shown over his cracking lips as he reached up to straighten the large top hat on his own head. His blue trench coat hung loosely on him, at least a size too big.

"Yeah, ain't it nice of me?" Harley waved a hand dismissively in the air, showcasing it to be a simple gesture of kindness. She didn't allow herself to mention her ulterior motive for bringing him to the shop or for inviting him out at all. The small man's presence never ceased to discern her, as she was never able to tell if he were more than just a child. He giggled happily, taking off at a jaunt—no, really, it was more of a _skip_—to the back of the large room filled with nothing but hats.

"Look—just look, Miss Quinn! They're all shining, so bright, so beautiful! Don't you just adore hats?" He picked one up off its shelf, twisting the felt-like fabric around in his spindly fingers. His eyes took on a far away look as he gazed upon it. "I know Alice would find me just dashing in this one. Simply wonderful."

"I'm sure." Harley replied, picking idly at the polish of her fingernails, utterly uninterested. She tried her best to fake it, though. Her mind was instantly taken back to the time when the Joker had brought her to his tailor. What a painstaking snooze-fest that had been! She shuddered at the thought, thinking back to the tens, what seemed to be hundreds to her, of suits he had tried on. Then she had pouted when he refused to take her to Victoria's Secret, and when she protested further, he had pulled her hair.

She reached up to stroke one of her pigtails idly, relishing the idea of his touch.

The feeling slowly faded when she felt a tug on her hand from the man beside her. Jervis looked up at her, eyes curious, and laced his fingers with hers.

"Ali—er, Miss Quinn," He corrected himself gently, eyes drifting upwards for her approval.

"We've talked about this before, Jervis, I'm not Alice. I'm Harley." Her lips pursed distastefully. She recalled back from her days at Arkham that somehow all the Alice's he encountered ended up suffering retched fates—some worse than death.

She shivered as the petite man looked up at her, seeming so innocent. He let off a sense of gentleness as he toyed with the hat in his hands, glancing at it now and then with a look of admiration.

"I know dear, you're hair is much too unnatural to be Alice's—you smell of bleach. Little Alice would never use bleach—no, no!—her hair is like locks of gold." He smiled, his eyes glinting. Harley sniffed, lips quirking into a frown as she stroked her hair self-consciously.

"Huh. She sounds like a real charmer." She rolled her eyes but Jervis missed the sarcasm tainting her tone.

"Ah, yes, she's lovely!" He turned away from her, but not before looking her up and down and giving her a charitably pitying grin before adding, "And those breasts, silly girl, are nothing like Alice's—she would _never_dream of being so…showy with her assets."

Harley groaned as he walked towards the mirror in the middle of the store. Her brows furrowed and she crossed her arms and vaguely pondered why she hadn't recalled the man to be so infuriating. A sigh passed through her lips and she followed him, watching him pivot and smile at his reflection in the mirror.

"I don't know, oh dear me, does this look okay? Heaven forbid I buy something that doesn't look dashing." Jervis fretted, turning to the blonde with wide eyes. He looked so childish in that moment that all Harley's previous thoughts were abandoned, finding the man to be hopelessly endearing. She gave a nod and a smiled crossed her lips.

"It looks very nice on ya', Jervis. Very handsome." She reached out to pat his shoulder once.

"Why! Thank you, Miss Harley!" The man smiled and nodded once before dancing to the other side of the store to the window seat. He sat down on the bench, motioning for her to join him, and turned his attention to the rain. His eyes flickered to her once or twice, but otherwise his attention was elsewhere. His lips moved with the articulation of words, whispering out nonsense syllables, poems, limericks, but otherwise he was quiet.

After a moment he abruptly turned to her.

"Do you like stories, little pretty one?" He reached for her hand, taking her fingers and examining the polish. Harley gave a small shrug and offered him a nod. His hands felt clammy around hers.

"Yeah, 'course I do."

"Did your father read you stories when you were a child? Goodnight stories, perhaps? Something nice, something sweet?" His voice rose with excitement.

"My Daddy left when I was a girl." She said, a flash of sadness tainting her eyes. The earliest memory she had of her father was his back as he exited the door while her mother clutched at her, giving soft quiet sobs. The girl had never understood since why he left, her mother was indifferent about the reason, never offering Harley something concrete in the way of evidence to support his absence.

So instead, she just didn't think about him.

"Ah, how disappointing, how very sad." Jervis murmured with eyes trained on the window. Droplets plopped down on the pane with echoing pattering, the sound supplying a comforting rhythm to her thoughts. "Your mother then, did she tell you stories?"

"Sure, sometimes, I guess."

"I like stories. How I love them—especially 'Alice in Wonderland', you know. What a work of genius." He mused. His eyes shifted to glance at her. "I heard an interesting one the other day, it was very curious. _Very_curious indeed!"

"And what was that?" Harley replied, humoring his enthusiasm.

"It was a rather intriguing story," he began. "Someone, he-who-I-will-not-name, told me that," he paused for a breath, turning to face the girl. "The Cheshire Cat died."

Harley drew in a breath.

"Who?"

"The cat, dear one." He explained as if it were obvious. "The one with the wicked, devious smile and the curling lips."

A shudder of ache went through Harley's body.

The Cheshire Cat died.

_The Cheshire Cat died._

"Yes, he did." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. She was too exhausted to cry, too tired from all the previous tears.

"Ah, it wasn't just a folk tale, then, not a silly story after all." Jervis muttered, eyes drifting over the girl. "How sad, but, the cat always knew it would come. He was mad, he expected it sometime, you know. All madmen hold death as a mistress." He smiled sadly, giving her a pat on her dainty hand.

"I didn't expect it." She whispered quietly.

"Of course not, Miss Harley! No one ever does, except those who _know_!" He grinned wildly, leaning closer to her.

"How are you supposed ta' know?" Her brows wrinkled together.

"You simply _do_, when that clock ticks and you realize that you're late to the grand and very, _very_final tea party." Jervis smiled sadly, taking the hat and twisting it around in his fingers once again. They skimmed over the fabric lovingly, intrinsically entranced by the object.

"I have to ask you a favor, Jervis, that's actually why I took ya' here." Harley said after a moment of quiet. The man looked up at her with a baffled expression.

"You mean you did not just come here to look at hats?"

"No, I didn't." She smiled slightly, amused by his childishness. He gave a nod and looked at her expectantly. "Batman killed Mistah J—er, _the Cat_, and I wanna avenge his death." Jervis gave a small nod, looking down once at her dainty fingers held in his own smaller hand, and then back at the window as rain dropped onto the pane.

"Tell me, Miss Harley, have you ever heard the story of the Jabberwocky?"

"Nah, I haven't." Jervis shot her a shocked look.

"What a waste," he muttered. "Ah, but I shall tell you." His stare was distracted, fixated on a point outside the window, but his voice was animated like nothing Harley had ever heard.

"There was a horrible monster that lurked deep in the forest," he began. "One day, a father began to tell his son the tale. It made its home in the woods, baring its horrible, ugly teeth and claws at anyone who disturbed it. Many other nasty things belonged with it, but the Jabberwocky was by far the most terrifying.

"Once the father told the son about this vile beast, the son made up his mind to slay it. The son takes a sword—a _great big sword,_I tell you!—and goes into the forest. And you know what he does?" Jervis glanced at her briefly for a moment.

"I dunno." Harley gave a shrug, her blue eyes glinting at his words.

"He slays the beast, kills it dead! Then he brings its head back to the father, who is very enthusiastic, and they celebrate together the defeat of the awful, troublesome monster." Jervis turned his attention fully to her, eyes swimming with mischief and insanity. His nose twitched and the blonde felt his hand begin to shake with a twisted sort of excitement.

Harley smiled at his words that followed, bloodthirsty hunger, thick and laced with the heavy desire for revenge, shining in her eyes.

"Miss Harley, I would be _honored_to help you slay your Jabberwocky."

* * *

_Review my wishes  
For fair weather  
'Cause I know if the clouds with rains or snows  
You won't be there  
How weak is that?  
Wish I was worth it  
To you_

* * *

**A/N:**Jervis! Jervis! Yay!


	11. Uncertain Truces

**A/N:**Been loaded up with so much physics homework, I'm trying my best to squeak in an update here though. But seriously. Idon'tevenhowdopeopleunderstandth isstuffwatismath. And just when the weather turns fantastic, it decides NOPE, and starts to pour rain on my head riiiight when I walk outside while being weighed down by tons of books in my arms. Like, thanks universe. But other than that, I'm absolutely thrilled to be reading so many kind reviews for this story. Thank you all so much, sending my virtual internet hugs to ya'll. c: And on a sidenote, I've decided to get around to giving names to all my chapters, so that's sorta fun. Enjoy! :)

* * *

_Pink lipstick stains, cigarette butts  
I lie in bed, I hate my guts  
A day in the dark, a murdered afternoon, yeah  
Oh baby, darling, how I'd love to become your suicide blonde  
To lie beside my Romeo, oh what a wicked way to go_

* * *

The hinges on the door of the apartment creaked and squealed in protest as Harley shoved the key into the lock and twisted it around in frustration, muttering curses under her breath until it finally relented and opened. She reached for the light switch and flicked it on carelessly after tossing her keys on the counter, paying no attention as they slipped off and slid to the floor. A sigh escaped her glossy lips and her hand pushed through her blonde curls which currently cascaded over her shoulders free of their usual rubber banded pigtails.

Harley considered the only thing worse than having to find ways to waste away the hours of the day and preoccupy herself to be the sinking feeling when she walked back into an empty apartment at night.

"I'm h_ooo_me, not that an'body cares." Harley pouted, shifting her attention to the roaring nightlife outside her window. Her legs moved slowly beneath her black lace skirt that barely covered her behind since the fabric flared when she walked. Her eyes gazed listlessly out the window as she stretched her arms up. Her tiny mouth pursed into a yawn while her cleavage became more prominent as she moved sensuously in her low-cut velvet, tank top style blouse that was as blood red as the gloss on her lips. She leaned into the frame and pressed her forehead to the glass, eyes falling closed as she let out a drawn out breath. She was the picture of a perfect, sleepy child. Her long lashes cast shadows over her opalescent cheeks that seemed almost transparent in the dim lighting.

It was both the quiet and the empty feeling that loneliness wrought that disturbed the girl.

"_Puddin'_…" His name came as a gentle sigh escaping her parted lips. Her hands curled in the hem of her shirt as the pounding of an encroaching headache filled her skull. She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and desperately prayed that with each whisper of his name it would bring her darling back home. She found herself swimming in a lost state of insanity, the brand that the Joker had perfected long ago, reaping the rewards of his hold on the girl even in death.

She was nothing more than his puppet, his whore, his love.

Just as tears began to seep from the corners of her eyes, there was a sharp slam in the back of her apartment. Harley jumped, eyes flashing open, looking around wildly.

She hadn't been alone after all.

"Whoever the hell s'in my apartment better get the f—oh, whoa, din't 'spect to see you here." The astonishment and anger flickered from Harley's face as soon as the intruder slunk free of the shadows and revealed themselves. "I s'pose the first question that I should know enough ta' skip would be how did ya' get in here, but considering, I pro'lly am better off not knowing." A smile crossed her sparkling lips as she tip-toed toward the middle of the small living space.

"I'm a burglar for a living so breaking into your poorly secured apartment was honestly no great feat, Harley." Catwoman's voice was a sultry, forced purr as she pawed through her pixie cut hair. Her eyes drifted over the harlequin slowly, green and inquisitive. Harley cleared her throat sharply and bowed her head.

"Maybe you should just tell me why you're here, 'ay kitty cat?" Harley squeaked. Her tone was strained and uncomfortable, remembrances of their last confrontation ripe in her mind. Her cheek stung at the thought of being clawed again. Idly the blonde twisted her skirt in her hands, clicking the heels of her ballet flats together.

"I want a truce." In a swift movement, Selina grabbed something shiny from the bag hanging on her shoulders and threw it to doe-eyed girl with expert aim. Harley caught it with both of her hands, drawing the thin gold chain through her fingers as a huge smile crossed her lips.

"Wow-ee cat, this must'a cost you a fortune!" She joked, waggling her eyebrows at the woman. Selina rolled her eyes and stalked towards the blonde, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Anything for you, dear." She winked. Harley nodded and a giggle escaped her lips, eyes widening as the moonlight shone over the ruby that was held on by an expensive looking golden clasp.

"You were talkin' 'bout some sorta truce?" She lowered her blonde head demurely, gazing up at the taller woman from huge baby blues. Catwoman nodded and fidgeted where she stood. Neither female was comfortable with apologies; nor did they feel they owed the other the simple words 'I'm sorry.' Harley simply craned her neck to watch her friend while Selina turned her attention to the ceiling in an uninterested manner. She picked at a long nail inattentively as she spoke.

"Yes, I figure we didn't part ways _politely_," her voice was a soft purr, "last time we chatted. I came here to see how you were doing because knowing your attachment to the clown…well, I know you could use a friend." Her green eyes glinted and her body twisted in sensual ways as she spoke.

"Yeah, I 'pose I do, kitty. Can't really lie an' say no, since ya've seen me cry an' all about Mistah J." Harley's lips pursed in a forced grin. "Wanna cup of coffee or somethin'?" Selina nodded and leaned over the counter as the girl walked to the refrigerator. It hummed in a concerning way when she jerked the door open with a hard yank, poking her head almost completely inside. "I could get ya' tea, or Cola, er…no, guess it looks like I just gots' plain ol' water." She pulled back and stuck her tongue out teasingly at her friend. "Haven't really had time to shop since J's been gone. Not that I did much before, he never really liked my cookin'." The giggle she forced out was choked and filled with unshed emotion. Selina's eyes narrowed skeptically.

"Harley, what _have_you been doing since the Joker's been gone?" The blonde shifted uncomfortably, giving her feline companion a sidelong glance.

"Not much'a anything, I guess. Everythin' I used to do with Puddin', well, it all feels so _wrong_without him beside me. Ya' know what that feels like?" She gave another gurgling laugh, tears welling up in her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"How it feels to be empty. To do the things ya' used to love, but have them feel so weird, so silly to be doing them alone. I never really gave it much thought when J was around. I mean, he din't like public displays much—nah, that was never him—but I do miss the little things." Her voice deepened as it filled with heaviness. Selina watched her carefully as she spoke. Harley's legs moved mechanically to her living room recliner—where her lover used to always sit—and flopped down on it. The life seemed to float out of her with her exhales, making her seem unbelievably frail and weak. She kicked her legs up on the ottoman and leaned her head back.

"Ya' know what I did tonight, 'Lina?"

"Hmm?" Selina hummed quietly, walking over to the girl with feline grace. She perched herself on the ottoman, taking Harley's legs into her lap, running a glowed hand over her soft skin comfortingly.

"I took a walk 'round town 'cause I feel like I haven't looked at anything in ages." Her voice was strained. "I took the booth in the café where Mistah J and I used to go. He'd order a sody- pop and I'd get a milkshake. And sometimes when I reached across the table an' asked real nice, he'd hold my hand awhile. I sat there alone tonight, drinking my milkshake, wishin' he was there." She opened one eye to glance at her companion for a moment after a brief pause. "Then I went to a movie all by myself, sat in the back of the theater, watching all them cute couple get all cozy in their seats together. When it ended, I came back 'ere, still all by myself, and thought '_Gee Harls, what's even the point of going back to a place where you're just gon' be more lonely than ya' already are?'_"

"Oh, Harley—" The blonde held up a hand, cutting Selina off midsentence.

"I'm not sayin' any o' that to get you to pity me, kitty cat. I said it 'cause you asked, an' I can't lie to a friend." She smiled sadly, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently.

"Of course, I would hope you'd be honest with me. It's the least you could do after I went through all that trouble of stealing you a million dollar necklace." The darker haired woman's smile was rueful as she patted the blonde's legs. "But I can't stand you doing all this moping around. Honestly, if you need a girl's night, call Pam or I, don't sit at a movie alone. I mean, jeez Harley, think a little bit. You're not completely alone just because the Joker's gone." Selina winced as she watched her friend flinch at the simple mention of the man's name. "I—I know it's hard, but you're going to have to move on."

"Easy ta' say, not so simple ta' do, pretty kitty." Harley smiled sadly, reaching out to ruffle her hair. Selina ducked her head and scowled, pawing through her hair fussily to fix it. "Mistah J was my whole world. You an' Pammie are beautiful gals, but being in love…it's not something ya' just move on from. I don't need to 'splain that to you, though." Her tone frosted over and her eyes narrowed, trying to keep the contempt for the murderer of her one and only darling. She drew her lower lip through her teeth, lipstick smearing with the action, two pale lines left bare where the gloss wiped free. Her tongue protruded delicately for a moment, realizing she had marred her previously flawless make-up, until she finally decided to scrap the effort and dragged the back of her hand along her mouth, smearing the red on the skin above and below her lips and onto her chin. When she smiled, the resemblance to the Joker's often messy grin's was striking.

"Let's not start this again."

"Start what, 'Lina? 'M just talking, is all." Selina shook her head when Harley gave her an innocent glance.

"Batman has—"

"_Don't_say his name, it makes my skin crawl."

"Fine. That…man, doesn't have anything to do with what you and I are talking about right now."

"Does too. My angel would still be here if it wasn't for that Batf—"

"You're starting.

"Shit, I know. Sorry, kitty cat. It's just you and me here now, let's leave Bat-brain outta this." Harley gave a playful smile, the change in her mood startling, and stuck her tongue out at her friend. Selina gave a soft smile and patted her legs comfortingly.

"Maybe I should get going. It's late, after all. You should get some rest, you look horrible Harley." The dark haired woman stood and stretched out her lengthy form, arms reaching high above her head, lips parting in a feline yawn. When she stalked towards the door, she walked with a feline grace that Harley couldn't help but envy.

"Hah, I can always count on you for some brutal honesty, can't I?" Selina nodded and began to twist the knob but was suddenly stopped in her tracks but what the petite blonde said next. "So what did he say when you told him I'm going to kill him?"

Catwoman's posture erected and she breathed a sigh.

"I didn't tell him." It was Harley's turn to freeze.

"What? Why not?"

Catwoman pulled the door open, craning her neck to give her friend a devilish grin over her shoulder before she slipped into the darkness of the hallway.

"Because it'll be more fun to see who wins. I told you before I'm not choosing sides yet—you know I always back the one who ends up coming out on top."

And with those parting words, Harley was left alone in her apartment once more. A wicked smile crossed her lips as she stared at the door Selina had exited, her fingertips brushing over her mouth, staining them with lipstick as red as blood.

* * *

_It only takes two lonely people  
To fuck love up and make it evil  
It only takes a drop of evil  
To fuck up two beautiful people_


	12. Grave Warning

**A/N:**I know that everyone will be thrilled to hear that in the next chapter the Riddler will be back.

Or maybe it's just me getting excited about it, because I can't even handle the pure amazingness that man exudes.

Obsessions aside, I really hope that everyone likes this chapter. I'm hoping it explains more about the Joker's death and his descent into a harsher insanity that ultimately kills him.

* * *

_You could be my luck__  
__Even in a hurricane of frowns__  
__I know that we'll be safe and sound_

* * *

"_Come now, Harls my dear, don't cry. Hush your whimpers, quiet now." The words filled her ears with his uncomfortably pitched rasp. The Joker's lips pulled together, curling up into a wicked smile, something pitying harbored within the depths of his soulless eyes. The small blonde—still just a young girl—shifted closer until she was finely positioned in his lap. She perched on his legs while he crossed them, slipping his arms around her midsection so her back was pressed close against his chest. Her head tucked comfortably under the angle of his chin and she let out a breathy sob._

"_Puddin'…I love you." She whined, her voice lilting. Her frame was wracked with painful sobs that floated from her stomach, coursed through her chest and up her throat, tumbling freely from her lips. Her face was lacking its usual clown make-up, instead the red gloss highlighting her perfectly shaped mouth. She leaned back into the Joker's touch as he snaked one of his arms away from her stomach, instead bringing it up to her head to gently stroke her golden curls that fell around her shoulders._

"_Of course you do, minx." His voice purred like satin in her ears, but to the outsider it would have sounded like a gravelly scrape. The hand that wound around her side pulled up her shirt, lightly touching her skin. It rested softly on her side._

"_My leg hurts, Mistah J," she moaned suddenly, a shudder running through her. "Oh, it hurts!"_

"_Shh, I know, dearest." He whispered. His green locks tumbled free and mussed as he curved his neck towards her. His cheek brushed against hers and she let out a trembling sigh._

"_W-why…" She hummed again, her white teeth clattering together. The Joker remained intoxicatingly close, his warm breath on her face. He smelled of musk and the startlingly familiar haunt of blood. It was tangy and poignant through her nostrils, the familiar taste of him on her tongue. The painful throbbing from the wound in her leg was almost forgotten with his very presence._

"_Why did he do it, are you asking?" His head tilted to the side to push against her cheek. The stubble that he usually shaved was atypically present and rubbed her skin comfortingly raw._

"_Y-yes..." She choked out, her fingers fighting to close the rapidly bleeding gash on her leg. The Joker's hand tightened on the skin beneath her breast, eliciting another hitched raspy breath from her lips. Again the pouring wound was forgotten._

"_He did it, Harl'kins," Warm spittle speckled her chest where he had exposed it, his tongue flicking out in effort to wet his drying lips. "Because he wanted to hurt_me_."_

"_What do you mean?" The blonde whimpered again, tears streaking her imperfect freak-show make-up. The Joker took his hand away from her midsection to brush away the moisture in her eyes, staring at it with awe-like confusion. He brought the discolored bead of her tears to his lips, tasting it uncertainly, eyes widening with something like understanding once he did._

"_I know it hurts, my Harley, but your pain is temporary. Close your eyes a while and it'll be gone—patched up like nothing is wrong." His green eyes lowered and were stained the color of broken, cracking emeralds. She sucked in another breath and tried to draw in her composure, ignoring the pulsating red fluid flowing through the lower half of her uniform._

"_Did he hurt you too, Mistah J?" She forced her voice through chattering teeth, barely able to stay conscious through the pain. Her eyes rolled back in her head, the image of the Joker shattering into a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors._

"_He hurts me every day." His hand pulled through her hair softly. "It's the curse of the cat and mouse. Or, I suppose—the cat and the bat. One day, one will outsmart the other though, and the suffering of the other will end. It's one of the games the universe plays, and what fun is life without chances and a little bit of pain?" Through the encroaching darkness, Harley could see the outline of the Joker's smile. Brilliant, white, predatory. The curving edges of his red lips pulled up into a twisted grin, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead with unusual care._

"_D-don't want…him…to hurt you…" She murmured through a slowly chapping mouth. Her tongue swelled with the uncomfortable dryness of dehydration._

"_Everyone hurts, dear. It's the way life is."_

"_No…" Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she felt herself falling. She struggled to see him, to fight the black that was taking her into a slow, dripping unconsciousness._

"_The bat is getting smarter, minx. He's trying to take everything away from me, not that I have much left to take. And I thought I was the devious one—hah! Even I never would have thought good ol' Bats would stoop low enough to try to rob me of what humanity—if you can even call that what this smile is anymore—I have left…"_

"_W-what…do you mean…?"_

_His smile seemed to morph into a never-ending swirl on her closed eyelids as his voice filled her ears._

"_Why, Harley, don't you see? The Batman wants to break me by taking...you."_

Harley Quinn awoke from the dream with a start, pitching forward in bed with her sheets clutched firmly in an iron-grip. Small squeaks of pained breath slipped through her lips. Her chest felt tight at the memory, reality slowly slipping away from her.

Her ears fought to remember the last sentence, the last desperate plea he had said before going to his death.

Her blonde curls fell around her shoulders as the darkness turned menacing around her. She felt fear well up in every childish reserve she had fought to repress.

Remember, remember, _remember_what he said, Harley chanted like a mantra. Her brain flipped through memories, desperately grasping at whatever she could of what he said.

Then it hit her.

He thought she had been unconscious when he spoke. He thought she was unable to hear him. He thought he would have been safe from the blame she put on herself.

It had been his quiet suicide note to her, and it was all Batman's fault.

"_I'll never be broken, my dear minx. No, no, the clown will never lose. The bat will have to live with the fact that he never could bring the old cat back from insanity—realize that he could only kill him, or die himself."_

* * *

_You could be my luck__  
__Even if we're six feet underground__  
__I know that we'll be safe and sound__  
_


	13. Sorrow of Separation

**A/N: **Its been so long since I've updated, so I apologize! Life has been hectic and crazy with my school semester ending in a couple o' weeks (yay for midterms...not. :P) but I do hope to update this, as well as my other stories more frequently with being on break and such.

Also, as a plus, the world did not end.

And Christmas is in 3 days, for those of ya'll who celebrate it. :) And if not, wishing happy holidays to everyone in general!

This chapter was just begging to be written because I haven't actually featured Harley's feelings about visiting the Joker's actual *grave* so, I tried my best, and everyone please just remember, she's slowly going insane (well, insane-er, than she already was) so...that can attest to most of the mood swings. Everything else is just hormonal angst and awkwardness I threw in for fun.

Everyone knows how much fun an awkward, socially unacceptable Riddler is. Am I right?

* * *

_Fear no more the frown o' the great;_

_Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:_

_Care no more to clothe and eat;_

_To thee the reed is as the oak:_

_The sceptre, learning, physic, must_

_All follow this, and come to dust._

_Fear no more the lightning-flash,_

_Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;_

_Fear not slander, censure rash;_

_Thou hast finished joy and moan;_

_All lovers young, all lovers must_

_Consign to thee, and come to dust._

_No exorciser harm thee!_

_Nor no witchcraft charm thee!_

_Ghost unlaid forbear thee!_

_Nothing ill come near thee!_

_Quiet consummation have;_

_And renownéd be thy grave!_

_- William Shakespeare_

A pair of sleepy jade eyes peered at her from uderneath thick black perscription sunglasses.

"Mornin' Eddie, you're right on time, ain't ya'?" Harley piped in her classic Bostonian and waggled her eyebrows at him from outside his questionably antiqued car. The man's lips twisted into a tasteless frown and the overly perky blonde could feel the annoyance radiating from him.

"Will you get in the damn car already?" The Riddler's arm hung limply out the opened window of the driver's side as he idly reached out toss the passenger's door carelessly open for her.

"You sure are peachy, sunshine." He gave a snort of derision as she slipped into the seat beside him, her skin-tight black dress flapping up enough to give him a full view of her pink panties decorated with childish heart-shapes and lace. He lowered his eyes as she turned to look at him, bright eyes lined with dark smudges of mascara, her baby blues turned up to complete assault on any semblance of self-control he had planned on showing. Giving a cough, he placed both hands on the steering wheel and pretended she hadn't spoken. The worn cushion squeaked under her petite weight. He looked away and kept his eyes from roaming, staring straight ahead, irritated. "At least you're on time." She repeated and gave him a classically cheery smile. He did not return it.

"Punctuality is one of my many attributes I'm cursing at the moment. As well as my apparent inability to say 'no' to you." He muttered under his breath and jerked the car into reverse. Harley hummed softly to herself, ignoring him.

"Guessing you're not a morning person?" She watched him visibly flinch as she giggled at her own remark.

"You could say that." He offered, turning his head to glance out the back windshield of the car in order to back out of the driveway of the apartment complex. Harley noted his knuckles were chapped and white, something uncommon in the heat of the blistering summer. Her eyes raked over him lazily as he pulled onto the street at a painfully slow pace and noted he wasn't wearing his usual green suit. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were pushed up around his bony elbows, his dark green corduroy pants seeming baggy on his slim legs, his brown belt yanked tightly around his waist seeming to be the only thing that kept them on his skinny frame. He wore his simple green bowler as usual. His Adam's apple bobbed as they drove, words seeming to stick in his throat. Harley smiled slightly, delicate hands tightening their grip around the two to-go cups she had brought.

"Maybe some coffee would help?" A smile lit up her face, but the Riddler didn't seem to notice. His eyes were fixated on the green mug she offered out to him, the paint around the rim slowly beginning to chip off where lips had so often rested to sip liquid inside. His eyes narrowed, not menacingly, just uncomfortably. An eyebrow cocked skeptically. "I made it just how ya' like it—two sugars but no cream."

"My doubt wasn't present in your ability to make coffee to my standards."

"Ah?"

"Is that the clown's old cup?" He said. Harley flinched at the gruffness of his words, the bluntness of the mention of his name.

"Er, yeah."

"Then I'll pass." The remark was tossed carelessly, unfoundedly, as if he were only slightly perturbed she would think to offer such a gesture.

"I mean…I've washed it and stuff..." She fidgeted in her seat. What was wrong with drinking out of her darling's cup? She racked her brain for answers, unable to figure any reason why the man who was so clearly smitten with her would be uncomfortable. She stared at him unabashedly while he drove on ahead, elbows locked to plant his twig-like arms in a perpetual state of stiffness.

"Thank you, but no." She looked down between the two mugs, her own pink one seeming obsolete at the moment. Her eyes traveled back up to his face and then back down, her hand shakily holding out her own cup to him in a childish offer of peace.

"Want a sip of mine?" Edward stiffened a moment before peeling his eyes away from the road to spare a brief look at her. Letting out a huff of breath, he rolled his eyes and softened.

"You're not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?"

"Nope." She cracked a smile.

"Then hand it over, blondie." He relented and took a long gulp from her own bedazzled pink mug. His face pinched up in surprise after handing it back to her. "The hell…! This isn't coffee." He stated after a moment, not a question. His eyes widened. Harley giggled.

"Nope." She smiled again and took a sip. She coughed as it slid down her throat. "Hot chocolate and vodka."

"That's absolutely disgusting. Why the fuck would you ever think of mixing those two?" His jaw was slack in utter disbelief as he tried to wipe the taste from his mouth with the back of his hand. Harley gave a shrug and a long girlish giggle. Her red glossy lips sparkled in the summer sunlight streaming through the car window. Her blonde curls brushed her shoulders in their tight pigtails.

"'Cause vodka is gross, but it gets the job done. And I love cocoa, you know that, silly." Edward simply rolled his eyes at her reply.

"Only you, Harley…"

"Imma one of a kind gal, Ed-a-roo." She teased, her elbow jutting out to poke his ribs. The ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he drove.

"Apparently so. I don't the world could handle any more than just one of you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't meant as one."

"Well then, screw you." At that, Edward let out an uncharacteristically loud guffaw.

"Bitch." He rolled his eyes.

"Play nice now, Riddler." She chastised a smile in her tone. His hands shifted on the steering wheel, his gaze softening as he glanced at her. The collar of his shirt had slid down a bit, revealing the smooth skin of his chest, small mats of hair poking out above the first button. Harley found his scruffiness somewhat endearing.

"Remind me again why I have to drive you? I thought the clown had a car, or did he ruin that, too?"

"After the…" She hesitated before speaking, her voice hitching before the mention of the Joker's demise. "..Er, incident, some people recognized the liscense plate of the car. Wouldn't want the caped crusader getting wind of where I'm hiding out. Had to sell it." She sneered.

"I see." Riddler was quiet for a moment, shifting his glance from the frowning blonde to the windshield. His emerald eyes were focused and unsure. Harley was uncertain why he should be nervous, but nonetheless, he was. "Anyway," He segued, "How are you, uh, holding up?" A brief ghost of a smile crossed her glossy lips.

"Eddie frickin' Nigma, the big bad puzzleman of Gotham City, king of everything but attempting small talk with a lady."

"Can it and answer the damn question, tramp, or I'll kick your ass out of my car." He struggled to keep a wry grin off his face, regardless of his rasping tone. His insults held no merit with her and a forced giggle tumbled from her full lips as she raised a hand to her right pigtail, pulling at it idly, habitually.

"I'm…ya' know. As good as a girl can be." She looked out the window, twirling her golden locks absently.

"Evasive." He commented.

"Don't wanna talk about it." She scrunched up her nose. Riddler's eyes froze on her, something in them gentle behind the usually cold stare.

"Fine. Sit in silence, then," he said, "I'd rather not talk about the clown anyhow. In general conversation gets a bit dull, it's one of the social protocols that I'll never understand."

"Finally something the Riddler doesn't understand." Harley mused, shifting around in the seat. The leather of his car interior pressed uncomfortably into the back of her thighs, sticking to her skin in the heat. Either he hadn't had the gall to turn the air conditioning on, or it was broken. She guessed it was the latter.

"Perhaps 'understand' was the wrong word to use. It's one of the social conventions I find tiresome and useless." His lips formed another grimace to match hers. Harley was quiet another moment before she lowered her gaze to the hem of her tight dress. The sequins shimmered in the hot sunlight but the dazzling decorations didn't thrill her like they normally did. The color of her ensemble was black.

She was in mourning, but she didn't know how to act like it.

"Have you ever lost someone, Eddie? Someone close to you?"

"I try to keep everyone at arm's length, that way I can avoid such inconvenient circumstances." Again, the girl was silent.

"…Death is an inconvenience?"

"Fear no more the lightning-flash, nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; fear not slander, censure rash." The Riddler quoted, his voice as quiet as hers. Harley watched him with a frown, brows wrinkling delicately, full mouth pursing.

"I don't get it."

"Maybe the clown would. Pity he's too dead to listen anymore." The Riddler's words cut into her soul, her very being, and made her scream inwardly. She protested against the walls of her psyche, trying in vain to think of something—_anything—_to hold onto her darling's memory. His face. His smile. The blood running thick and luscious beneath his veins. She kept her face serene, something she could seldom manage, only her lower lip trembling weakly.

"He can't be gone."

"Reminiscence is quite literally the bane of my existence." Edward's glance turned cold as he merged his car onto a deserted dirt road. The curves forced him to jerk the wheel in quick, forced motions. His lips were taught and white. Nothing about his posture was relaxed, though Harley could only ever remember a few occasions on which she had seen him at ease.

"_All_ kinds of reminiscence are?" Her voice was soft. Riddler offered her a nod of indifference.

"Yes, I subscribe to the policy of strict 'no nostalgia.' The past is simply the past. It's best to let it go—typically once you reap your revenge and debts are paid." Harley remained quiet for a few heartbeats.

"You know, you're pretty dumb for someone who calls himself a genius."

"I don't call myself that for amusement's sake; it's a fact." His shrug once again conveyed his painful indifference.

"You're still an idiot Eddie."

"I really hate it when you call me that for no reason at all." He grumbled and turned another corner into a heavily wooded section of their drive. Harley's fingers trembled on her skirt with feelings of heavy regret filling her petite frame. Her body shook with tremors as they neared the sacred location and pitied herself that she was thinking of someone else—and was _with _that very someone else—at the final moment she would visit her love again.

"There's a reason." She murmured as her eyes glazed over. She looked listlessly out the window as he pulled into an abandoned field. On a hill sat a single stone. The Riddler threw the car into park and turned his attention to the girl beside him. She felt so small compared to his lanky, towering height, even sitting down.

"And what would that be?" Edward's voice was lowered now and took on a more subdued note of thoughtfulness. He seemed almost gentle to her in that instant. The wolfish smile he normally wore full of crooked teeth was not menacing nor threatening and only held what was simply there—the pure and untainted essence of the Riddler, her friend, and close proximity they had shared for that one regretted night. His chin tipped toward her, his nose casting a shadow over his lower lip, a small bend in the otherwise perfect feature from how many times it had been broken and misshapen from punches and abuse from the Batman.

And the Joker, after he had found out about Edward and Harley's friendship.

"Don't you remember?" Her blue eyes darkened with sympathy. She gave him credit so often for being smart, for being callous, for being able to forget about others and detach himself. She had never been so fortunate or able to do that. The Joker had always been her first priority, herself and her own body and soul taking a backseat to her darling's wants and desires. The Riddler simply stared at her before his gaze lowered to his hands that sat folded in his lap. His middle fingers twitched as he steepled them as he searched for something to say.

"I remember." He was somber and his eyes were sad as they looked at his hands, scratched and calloused. He had taken a psychological beating over the years that had worn him out, in some ways being even as disturbed as the Joker. Harley saw that in him, that dire need for human companionship that was buried beneath an exterior of hate from the many obstacles that weighted him down. "Remembering and reminiscing isn't the same thing."

"Where's the line, Eddie? Where does it stop? Why don't you cross it?" She tilted her head in childish confusion. She had tried so long to desperately understand the type of madness that was wrought in both of the men in her life, the one that plagued her clowny lover the more demented. When he had smiled at her, there was something comforting in the way the insanity sparkled on him. The beautiful way he glittered to her, the same sort of perfection she had only thought possible in fairytales.

"I don't cross it because I never could. It doesn't mean I didn't want to." He brought his gaze to her as he reached over to unlock the passenger side door. His arm innocently brushed her abdomen as he did so, but Harley thought nothing of his touch. It didn't do anything for her—it never had. It was constantly a substitute for the cravings she could never get from the Joker. There was something comforting about his obsessive compulsiveness. Something endearing about his want for perfection.

And not for the perfection that she was, but for what she wasn't.

She had been the only one that didn't have to be perfect, in Edward Nigma's eyes. It was that fact, Harley suddenly realized, that attracted him to her.

And it was the fact that he wasn't the Joker that was the reason that they could never be.

Her heart was his from the moment she found the rose in her office in the Asylum. It was never hers to give away, it simply belonged to the clown, and that was that.

A fairytale ending, or so she had thought.

The Riddler stared at her a moment longer and seemed to realize this. He shifted away and looked out his own window, his right hand waving in a gesture of dismissal. "And just because I say that doesn't mean anything. Just words. Empty and meaningless without actions to support them, so don't listen to me. Go see your boyfriend, Harley. Pay your respects and lets be on our way. You already roped me into driving you here, it wasn't like I had nothing to do." His voice was a tired grumble and although he sounded annoyed, Harley knew it was simply to cover up the insecurity he felt. He was not a brave man, he was a coward and he knew it. At the first sign of trouble he would turn tail and scram. It had never been any different with the Joker, and she couldn't help but notice a trend in the men she associated herself with.

It was sort of funny, in a very sad way. Regardless, it made her smile.

"M'kay. I'll be back in a minute, Eddie." He gave her a brief nod as she stepped out of his car and began to trek up the hill. Her steps were careful and steady as she tried her best not to stumble on the uphill hike. There was a single stone resting atop the mound, one she had put there herself only about a month ago. Her stomach twisted with the realization it was possibly the last time she would come there, if her plan went through with the Batman.

Any life she could have was not worth living without the Joker, so if Bat's killed her when she got one good shot in on him, what did it really matter as long as she took him down too?

Her smile curled into something maniacal, because she knew deep in her heart that truthfully, it didn't matter, and no one would really miss her.

She stood in front of the plain stone. There was nothing carved into it, it stood plainly as a grave marker, the Joker's rotting body decaying beneath her feet. Her hands clasped tightly together as she stared at the stone, nearly able to feel his presence beneath her. Her breath came in shaky gasps. His face was a simple image in her mind, swirling redness, splattering blotches. She was able to feel the hot aching wetness of warm, salty blood dripping down her neck, through her fingers, over her legs as she held his already dead corpse in her arms. She felt the cool slickness of the dagger she pulled from his guts, the hilt coming away covered in crimson. She felt his carcass, still fresh with the spasms of death, shaking slightly with its last convulsions.

She fell to her knees, bent her head, swayed to the left, and hurled all over the wilting grass.

Tears stained her pale cheeks, her skin white without the need of make-up, baby blue's shining like a terrified child.

"I never even got to say goodbye…" She whimpered and threw herself on the grass before the stone of the grave, her arms wrapping around the monument that symbolized more than even she herself could comprehend. Her eyes squeezed themselves shut and she futilely conjured up a less gruesome image of her lover.

Suddenly, he was there, staring down at her. His green hair waved in the bright summer sunlight, his smile seeming more kindly and gentle than it had ever been in person. His face was whiter than hers, the pale of the outside layers of a ghost, when peeled away a broken shadow of insanity left behind. Harley could do nothing but lay and weep.

"Mistah J, I couldn't save you. I wanted to save you. If only I could bring you back—if only _I _could'a died instead a' you!" Her whine was a pitchy rasp of her usual Bostonian, and the bottom of her dress fluttered up in the wind. Her heart felt as though it were breaking all over again as she pictured him there, his face, his suit, his being next to her.

"There ain't nothing I can do to protect you, an' I know there never was." She whispered, pulling herself to an embarrassed, humble, sitting position. Her hands clasped in atypical prayer, an awkward attempt at something spiritual. It was blatantly amusing to her, but she prayed to her angel, her own sadistic clowny angel, that he would be with her in her moment of truth. "But I can do something to make the Batman pay for what he did. He took you away, so now I'll take him too.

"He doesn't deserve to live when you don't. The game wasn't over yet, Mistah J. Maybe B-man thought it was, that killing you would be checkmate, but the joke's on him, Puddin'."

Her smile turned conniving, twisted, and completely inhuman.

"'Cause I'm still playin' and it ain't over till the black bat sings to me for mercy."

She pulled herself to a wobbly standing position, legs shaking, sparing a last glance at his tombstone. She bent over the stone structure, lips pressing a trembling kiss to it, leaving a small lip print on the very top. Harley smiled again and began to walk back to the car.

When she opened the door and turned to look at the Riddler, she saw something she had never seen before in his eyes. She couldn't quite tell what it was, whether it was admiration or fright, she didn't know. Quite frankly, she was fine with either. She gave him a quiet command, uttered only a soft,

"Drive," and he shifted the car into reverse. Harley continued to smile as he drove, glancing over to him a few times without seeing him, only looking through him at something bigger, something greater.

"Eddie?" Her voice was unable to rise above a murmuring pitch.

"Hn?"

"Have ya' ever lost someone close to you?" She wasn't watching when Edward's eyes slid over to her, studying her, eyes glassy and harboring sadness. At last he let slip an admittance,

"Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Which time?" She shifted slightly and turned to look at him.

"Lost more than one person?"

"I've lost everyone." He wanted no pity, that was clear, and when he talked about his own pain it was obvious that he had a sense of pure detachment that most couldn't even hope to hold when it came to loved ones slipping away.

"You've told me...about your parents before."

"That didn't hurt, though. It was a calculated loss, a partial sting when it happened, and is something I don't think about any longer. It's useless."

"What about the other times?"

"Only one other time."

"Oh. Did it hurt then?"

"Like hell."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't be." When she looked at him, he was now staring at her, utterly unfocused on driving. "It's silly to think that you lost something, when you never possessed it in the first place."

She was quiet, and could think of nothing to say.

The Riddler turned his attention back to the road as if nothing had happened.

Harley swallowed, took a deep breath, and looked out the window once again.

She could still remember the way the Joker's blood felt flowing over her thighs.

She knew there was really no difference between remembering and reminiscing, because when you were insane, it all ended up the same. It came back to only the present and the future.

The Riddler spared her another glance, hands tight on the steering wheel as he murmured gentle syllables through soft lips.

"Thou hast finished joy and moan; all lovers young, all lovers must consign to thee, and come to dust."

_Fear no more the frown o' the great;_

_Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:_

_Care no more to clothe and eat;_

_To thee the reed is as the oak:_

_The sceptre, learning, physic, must_

_All follow this, and come to dust._

_Fear no more the lightning-flash,_

_Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;_

_Fear not slander, censure rash;_

_Thou hast finished joy and moan;_

_All lovers young, all lovers must_

_Consign to thee, and come to dust._

_No exorciser harm thee!_

_Nor no witchcraft charm thee!_

_Ghost unlaid forbear thee!_

_Nothing ill come near thee!_

_Quiet consummation have;_

_And renownéd be thy grave!_

_- William Shakespeare_

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**A/N: **I would also like to say a BIG thank you to all of you that have kindly reviewed, favorited, alerted, etc. It means SO much to me, more than I can say, that you enjoy my work enough to read through it. And a huge thank you to everyone who has read my story and enjoyed in silence, because just knowing you've viewed my writing is a compliment enough. Thank you, thank you all! Hope you stick around for the following chapters as well. It's one helluva ride. :3


	14. The Sound Of Breaking Hearts

**A/N: **Goodness, it's been such a long time! I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, I've had lots going on with school and whatnot. But I promise a more timely update next time.

Anyhow, this chapter is dedicated to my sun and stars, Kaley (the fabulous _KayMoon24_, go check out her stories!),who is there for me every time I need her, and seems to have a Spidey-sense about all my anxiety. c: I worked on editing this all evening for you, my lovely, I hope you enjoy! Please be the Pamela to my Harley forever. 3

Anyhow, here's this, kittens. Please enjoy, and drop me a review, if you feel so inclined.

* * *

_Waiting for the night fall, for my heart to light up__  
__Oh baby I want you to die for, for you to die for my love_

* * *

Harley had never seen quite so much green in her life. Ivy crawled up the brick sides of her apartment complex while holly leaves were scattered across the sidewalk. She hopped in quick steps with her stiletto heels to avoid stepping on them. Pansies grew in the mulch carelessly spread about and vines of clematis curled around the open door frame. Harley situated the thin strap of her purse on her shoulder and hurried inside, her cheeks aching from the wide smile spread across her lips.

She took the stairs two at a time, bouncing off the next as if it were a gymnastics springboard. Managing to avoid the thorns on the roses that wove around the door handle, she threw it open and shouted,

"Pammy!"

Poison Ivy had perched herself on a now plant infested sofa, bare legs languidly hanging off one end while her head lolled back with a graceful laziness against a pillow. She idly toyed with a small vine that grew and twisted around her finger with every slight breath she took. The plant grew longer and coiled around her legs and up around her chest, outlining the curves of her ample breasts that were visible through the filmy fabric of her sheer satin midriff. She crossed her legs, revealing that the only thing barely covering her was a pair of delicate green panties. Red curls tumbled down over her shoulders to the peaks of her chest, her freshly trimmed bangs bringing out the vibrancy of her electric green eyes. Her full, pouting lips quirked up into the beginnings of a smile, the only invitation Harley needed to bound over with a delighted squeal and throw her arms around her.

"Just thought I'd drop by to check on you, Harls." Ivy purred, her voice dripping with the ease of silk. Harley pulled the woman into a tighter embrace, hugging her with an enthusiasm that hadn't been apparent in her in weeks.

"Well, it's wonderful ta' see ya', Pam! When I got home I saw all your plants and thought, 'gee, my landlord's really gotta get a better landscaper because this is nutso!'" A small trickle of laughter bubbled from her lips, her bleached pigtails bouncing from side to side while she spoke. Her hands toyed absently with the hem of her scarlet lace dress—a 'dress' that was obviously intended to be a shirt.

"Yes, I really should have a," Ivy paused, her tongue darting out to slowly wet her lips in a sensual gesture, "_word_with that landlord of yours about the lack of greenery around here. The desolation is appalling. I'm sure he'll appreciate the revisions that I made in my redecorating. Much better than the original." Harley nodded and stretched to lay down on the couch, resting her head in Ivy's lap. The older woman rested an arm over the girl's midsection, her other hand twisting strands of blonde hair through her green tinted fingers.

"So what were you doing in these parts'a town?" Harley asked after a relaxed moment filled with silence. Her chest slowly rising and falling with inhalations, the redhead gave a slight shrug, her fingers brushing delicately over the girl's facial features.

"I wanted to see you." Harley gave her a skeptical glance.

"You mean you were worried." Ivy's glare in response was reproachful. "Well, I mean, why else? Normally you hate coming here. You say my place stinks of rats n' ungrateful humans, so we usually hang at your place. I'm surprised you came here at all." Ivy gave a long sigh, looking at Harley thoughtfully before answering. Her fingers slid down her neck and chest to trace slightly on her thighs as she spoke.

"The clown was the main reason I never liked to visit, Harley. I can stand the scent of men and whores; I live in a city full of them. But the Joker…no, I'd rather suffer the presence of a million of your kind before I'd sit in a room with him," she sniffed, nose pinching up in distaste. Harley sat up abruptly, a frown pasted on her lips.

"Hey, Ivy, that's not nice," She whispered, forcing down tears that threatened to spill over at the mention of the Joker's name. She swallowed hard and looked away, legs twitching in anticipation and nervousness. Ivy took a long breath before lightly pressing a hand to the small of her back.

"Sorry," She murmured, "You know he and I never got along."

"That's not an excuse. An' I don't 'preciate you talking about my baby that way. He might not of been the best man, but he was _my_man." Lately, Harley had been trying not to think of the Joker. When she did, the tears came. Along with the panic attacks, the shortness of breath, the churning ulcer beginning to form in her stomach, and the endless hours of mindnumbing pain that followed the image of his face in her mind. The realization that she couldn't call out to him, wrap his arms around her, or kiss the pasty colored flesh on his cheek was nearly too painful to bear. She began to do what any person would do when they felt like they were living a nightmare: try to forget. She knew she had a mission and vengeance to seek against the Batman, but the reason for it had seemed to dull in her mind as she tried to push her once love out of her thoughts. The scene she saw in her mind's eye—the Batman holding the hilt of the bloody knife as it protruded into her lover's abdomen, her shock as she watched immobilized, the dark knight's look of shock that _had_to be fake—it had to be, she refused to believe it was an act committed in innocence—pasted all over his face, the beginnings of her shrill screams over the Joker's gurgling gasps as he collapsed on the ground, the way Batman's breastplate felt beneath her hands when she gave him a shove and cried out for him to get away as she knelt down to take the Joker's giggling head into her lap, watching last bit of light fade from his eyes. "I-It hurts, it hurts to think 'bout him, I-I can't…" She rasped, suddenly wildly scrambling to grasp Ivy's hands in her own shaking ones. They held tight, clinging as though they were the last semblance of her turbulent reality that seemed to be fraying at its bursting seams.

"Don't think about him then, dear." Ivy whispered, removing one of her hands from Harley's vice grip and using it to pull her fingers steady through her hair, smoothing the slightly perspiring ivory skin of her forehead. Harley's glassy eyes shifted upward, futilely blinking back tears, and gazed into the serene face of her best friend. Ivy's green tinted skin seemed to nearly glow in the little amount of light that streamed through the window behind them, creating a halo of her fiery red curls to frame her face. Her cheeks seemed slightly more gaunt that usual, but she possessed an elegance like no other that was close to the loveliness of a goddess. Her full lips curved into an easy and graceful smile as her eyes rested on the blonde with a fondness Harley had only seen in the eyes of one other. She swallowed hard, reaching up her free hand to stroke her hand along the piercing jawline of the woman, feeling the warmth of her skin soak into her hand like sunlight. Drawing in a slow breath, her own lips mirrored the smile of the redhead's, shiny black painted nails tracing lightly along the curve of Ivy's cheekbone. She felt the woman lean into her touch, giving the most tender, contented sigh that was audible to her own ears, and watched the pair of electric green eyes flutter closed at the soft contact of her fingertips. Flowers sprouted from the already winding vines around the couch, breathing life into the dull apartment with beautiful pinks and hues of violets. Harley gave a soft gasp as they wound around her midsection, crawling down her thighs, giggling when they tickled the sensitive flesh of her feet and curled around her toes.

"Are ya' trying to distract me, Ivy?" Harley laughed again as the buds exploded into more colorful flowers, petals floating down when new ones grew in their place, creating a flurry of a botanical garden in a matter of seconds. Ivy gave a rasping laugh, deep and throaty and completely sensual, followed by a both comforting and unsettling purr.

"That was the goal when I came here, but it seems as though _you_might be the one distracting _me_," she replied with a careless flick of her hand, the vines following her motion and climbing up the tattered curtains behind her.

"How'd I distract you?" Harley asked with an innocent tilt of her head. Immediately, she felt Ivy's cheeks grow warm with a blush beneath the soft tracings of her fingertips. The seductress shook the touch away, touching her lips to the girls clammy palm before the hand fell completely away. Harley furrowed her brows in confusion before lacing her fingers with Ivy's once again, holding fast even when she tried to pull away. "Pammy?"

"It's nothing, never mind," Ivy brushed her off with another offhand smile, toying at her fingers idly as if nothing had happened. "How are you feeling now? Perhaps a little better?" She squeezed her hand comfortingly, gleaming white teeth looking almost celestial in the darkness of the room. Harley nodded and shrugged slightly, the skin of her shoulders rubbing against Ivy's bare thighs as she made to sit up, still clinging to her hands. She faced her friend, forcing a smile to grace her lips and feigned the confidence she knew she had none of.

"I'm better since you showed up." That much was the truth. She hadn't been able to smile in weeks; not even a fake smile since Selina had come. When she looked in the mirror, all she saw was a pale girl who had lost the light of her life. Her ribs began to show through her clothing, but she never seemed to have any appetite at all. Her skin seemed to turn almost a grayish yellow, jaundice licking at the lids of her eyes. She stomach hurt daily with the growing ulcer in its pit, and the shadows seemed to appear in more and more places on her face. Her cheekbones were sharp and hollow, protruding unnaturally from her once full, fleshy, beautiful face. At least three full inches of thick, dark brown roots of her hair showed more obviously now, her once platinum bleached locks fading out as it grew and grew to touch the tops of her hips without a thought of trimming it. Harley had once been beautiful, but she couldn't bring herself to see that now. All she saw was a pathetic girl who couldn't save the man she loved.

"That's a lie," Ivy suddenly accused, eyes narrowing skeptically. "You're not better. You haven't eaten, it smells like you haven't even showered. When was the last time you took a bath?"

"I dunno." Harley struggled to remember. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a glass of water. Her mouth became a little dry at the thought of hydration, but she couldn't bring herself to want anything in particular.

"By the looks of it, you haven't slept in days, either," Ivy accused.

"When I sleep, the nightmares come," Harley protested, shivering automatically. His face haunted her dreams and the feel of his blood felt slick on her hands whenever her eyes drifted closed. It was easier to stay awake and fight the sickness than to sleep and face the reality that she would never wake up next to the Joker.

"You're going to kill yourself, Harley."

The world seemed much smaller around her when the words were spoken. The blonde looked up at the woman with eyes the size of saucers, reeling back as if she had been slapped. Her heart pounded a bit faster, perspiration making her suddenly feel very uncomfortable. The clothing that hung on her nearly skeletal form were itchy and hostile, suddenly she just wanted them _off_. She looked around wildly like a trapped animal, searching for something to give her a response to the words that hung limply in the thick air. She struggled for breath through her lungs when she dared to look into Ivy's eyes, finding nothing but pain and worry filling the green that was normally so calm. It seemed to her that the stress she felt in the air, pulsating from the vines weaving around her, the buds slowing beginning to wilt around her—

The anxiety wasn't Harley's own concern for herself.

It was Ivy's broken heart.

"Tell me, Harl, tell me you don't want to die," Ivy pleaded, her voice taking a tone that Harley had never heard before. She tilted her heart-shaped face, chin jutting out in an protesting inquiry as she spoke.

"I-I…" She began, but her throat cut off the lie she had been about to speak. She couldn't lie like that to her best friend. She couldn't lie to Pamela. So instead, she just kept quiet and stared into the wide green eyes that pleaded with her for a denial.

"Harley…oh, my Harley…" Ivy whispered hoarsely, seeming so much smaller to Harley in that instant that she had ever. Ivy had always towered above the rest. Not only did her stature inspire the confidence of a model or goddess, but her personality seemed to bubble with a sureness that was unrivaled. She was stuck in her beliefs, denied anyone who disagreed, and was possibly the most infuriating feminist on the planet. "How did I not realize this before?" She spoke almost inaudibly to no one but herself, and abruptly Harley felt like an outsider intruding in on private self-deprecation. Immediately, she rushed to protest.

"Please don't blame yourself, I couldn't, I—"

"I'm your best friend. I should have seen it sooner." Ivy's voice was cutting and final and evoked no need for response. Her eyes were narrowed into angry slits—angry at herself or at Harley, she couldn't tell. She sat quietly and folded her hands in her lap, fidgeting and waiting for her friend to offer some sort of explanation for her fury, but she gave none. Instead, Harley spoke. Her voice was nothing but a mouse's, that of a cowards, pinned down by the predator's scathing gaze.

"I don't really want to die—not really," she admitted softly, managing not to meet the transfixing green stare. "When Mistah J kicked it though, I gotta say, everything just stopped mattering. It was like nothing felt right. I didn't want to do nothin'. Just sit, stare, and feel sorry for myself and pine for my love. I know it's sorry, but I wish—" Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly the sensation of the tears burning was too much and they began to overflow, gushing like an unstoppable wound.

"You wish?" Ivy prompted, urging her to finish.

"I wish I would'a died in his place!" She shrieked, fear and exhaustion taking over, pulling Harley into a complete breakdown. Her hands trembled as she fell into Ivy, clutching at her shoulders, her skin, her hair, anything she could hold onto to keep her in her current reality. As she sobbed, she felt warm arms wind around her and vines weave into her hair, pulling the elastics free and letting the curls tumble down her shoulders. Ivy rubbed rhythmic circles into the exposed skin of her back and cooed comforting words next to her ear, lips ticking her cheek. Harley gasped and choked, finally giving up on trying to hold herself together.

"It's okay to fall apart, darling. But it's never okay to _give up_." Ivy soothed, running her fingers up and down her spine, pulling her into a tighter embrace. "You have so much to live for, and the Joker knew that. No matter how many times you fought with him, he wanted you to live. Harley, you know that, I know you do. The Joker, as slimy a crook as I believed him to be, I admit that there was, deep down, a part of him that cared for you. Do you honestly believe that he would have wished you to die in his place?"

Sniffling, Harley bit her lip. Her honey wouldn't have wanted her to die. No, he protected her. That was why he had been fighting the Batman in the first place that night.

He had fought for her, and he had died for her.

"N-no," she sniffed, "He wouldn't'a wanted me to die. He loved me, he did."

"Then sweetheart, the bravest thing you can do—the _best_thing you can do to mourn the Joker's death is to _live_. Sometimes it might be the hardest thing to do, but now it's the only thing you can do. Don't make the Joker's death be in vain. _Live for the Joker, Harley._Live, and avenge him." Ivy pulled her in even tighter so Harley could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest with her inhalations, she felt the emotion radiating from her, the desire for her best friend to fight through everything and live. She held on to the redhead with everything she had, burying her face in her neck and gave a tiny, lilting giggle.

"Don't 'cha think it's kinda silly to live for someone that's dead?" She grinned against Pamela's neck, giving it a light kiss and felt a shiver run up the woman's back.

"Perhaps, but if it's what keeps you alive, then I'll preach it as many times as I need." She pulled her closer as if the girl would break at any second, a fragile package that needed to be handled with care. Harley thought a moment and relished in the kindness of the embrace. It was softer, more gentle than anything that she'd ever felt or enjoyed before. The Joker's arms had never flushed as warm, as loving or as tender as Pamela's. The Joker had never pleaded with her to live with as such conviction. The Joker had never worried for her as Pam had, and yet he loved her with all of his being. He had loved her enough to give up his life for her. Harley snuggled closer, feeling at ease in the hug, wondering what those things meant.

"Pammy, you want me to live pretty damn bad, huh?" Pamela's response to her was a chuckle and a squeeze to her petite frame.

"Yes, I do."

"Then, I'm gonna live for you, too."

Pamela froze, holding the girl in an immobile embrace in a state of shock. Harley could practically feel her eyebrows raise in disbelief at her. She gave a little giggle and kissed her neck again, eliciting that same shiver as before. Pamela seemed to melt at this, a huge sigh floating through her.

"Good," she whispered simply.

"Mhm."

"I love you, Harley, and I promise that I'm going to take better care of you. I promise." She murmured into her hair, so soft that Harley feared she hadn't been meant to hear it. She bobbled her head in a nod, and said,

"Love you too, Pam."

A quiet purr flitted through the redhead's lips at her response, and she pushed her a little away, enough to look her in the eye with a grin.

"Alright, I think it's about past time we've had a girl's day then. You go take a shower while I brighten this place up a little bit, then we're going to get something to eat.

"But I'm not hung—" Pamela gave her a cutting stare, and Harley could do nothing to object. She rolled her eyes and offered another giggle, hopping off the couch and twirling in a circle, seeming almost like she had been before the Joker's death. "Fii_iiiii_ne, whatever you say," she relented.

"Good, now go," Ivy smiled at her and shooed her away with a flick of her wrist.

Harley ducked in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before dancing away with a smile, laughs filling the air as she skipped away, shouting,

"Thanks again, Pammy, I do love you so much!"

When the door to the bathroom closed and the lock clicked shut, Poison Ivy could do nothing but slouch back down on the couch and curl the now wilting vines around her arms with a half-hearted enthusiasm.

Harley wasn't the only one with a broken heart.

* * *

_Tonight I feel like neon gold  
__I take one look at you and I grow cold  
__And I grow cold...  
__And I grow cold..._

* * *

**A/N: **If you couldn't tell, I'm kind of a big Pamela/Harley fan. Ship, ship, ship all day, e'ry day.


	15. Mind of Murder

**A/N: **It's been too long, and I sincerely apologize for not updating this sooner. But this chapter was seriously a bitch to write, because Zsasz… *sigh*

Anyhow, I promised my lovely Kay that I would publish this tonight—so here you are, dear. I hope it's everything you expected and more. c:

For those of you who are absolute dolls and still follow this story, you'll be pleased to hear that the next chapter will feature a villain who has not yet made his debut to this story yet as well! We're winding down to the big finale here, kittens. 8D

Please enjoy, and I hope I haven't fueled any nightmares for ya'll with this…

**Warnings: **Morbid talk of death/killing, suggestible content, etc…

* * *

_Don't fret precious, I'm here, step away from the window__  
__Go back to sleep__  
__Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils,__  
__See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do._

* * *

She sat facing the window, legs pulled closely to her chest, her chin resting demurely on her knees. Her face was scrubbed clean of make-up blue eyes wide and childish as they faced the city she knew was rotting where it stood. Gotham looked bleak without the sense of former laughter and hope it had once held for her.

The shining essence of dreams, the brilliance of her ambition, the drive to climb to the top. The miraculous day she had been hired at Arkham and the illustrious smile that had entranced her; the voice that had cooed so comfortingly in her ear. The clown's face she had grown to think of as her own and the mask that shrouded her own flesh so perfectly. The way everything had seemed to gleam with the shimmer of excitement at one lost point in time. The flawlessly created illusion she had built in walls around her was coming crashing down all at once, wreaking havoc in her mind and crushing her where she sat.

Harley blinked a few times and reached out a hand to touch the glass that had begun to cloud up with smoke from the multiple factories polluting the air. The view was cluttered with tall buildings, flashing lights, and exhaled the rotting contamination that had once held so much life.

With each one of his laughs—the loud guffaws and bellows, the chipper chuckles that rang throughout the city, the malicious merriment that befell his unfortunate victims—he had single-handedly wrought the cheer that had made Gotham her home. As he lay in his grave, the city would wilt along with him.

Her nimble fingers wound around in her hair, pulling at the elastic that tethered it together. Her platinum locks fell in messy, unfolding curls around her shoulders. She couldn't even remember the last time she had gotten a haircut, so the waves tumbled to the middle of her back. Her eyes were rimmed with red from crying and more unshed tears built themselves a fortress in the corners of her baby blues. Her fingers trembled as they pulled at her shirt. She stood from her chair, dropping it to the floor, pulling at her red lace bra as she did so. Harley walked to the closet, bent over and picked a wrinkly dress shirt from the pile; she didn't have half a mind to be specific about the one she chose. She simply pulled one, toyed with it in her grasp, and pulled it over her bare chest. She slipped her skirt off, leaving her legs naked, and flopped onto the bed.

Inhalations didn't do much to bring him back. The scent off of his collared shirt was fading. She didn't have many more of his that hadn't been hampered with by the aroma of her own perfume. Her nimble fingers fisted in the fabric that had clung to his lanky form and wished desperately she could feel the perspiration that dotted his skin, the hot blood that pulsated in his veins beneath the surface, the life that had swelled so utterly, overwhelmingly perfect in his body.

But all that remained was the cold fabric and her fingers that prickled like icicles. She scrunched her nose, brows wrinkling into imperfect lines, ruining her face with worry. Listlessly she stared at the ceiling with no comfort being wrought from the familiar cracks in the plaster. Whispers seemed to call from all of the shadows, surrounding her with an uneasy sense of serenity. The madness she was used to; hallucinations were new.

Memories would sometimes come at her from nowhere. Suddenly she would be struck down with such a powerful force, a crushing traumatic blow to the essence of her being, that she would be forced to fall to her knees. The recollections were too much. She hated the way her mind brought him back, over and over again, his death playing in her brain. She hated and loved it at the same time, because each time she relived it, he was brought back for a moment longer. His image faded slower, and she held on to the single image she had left of him.

A bloodied and damaged man she had never been able to save.

_It had been her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Hers._

Her lips pursed in a tight circle, her eyes widening like saucers. She wondered if nostalgia, like the Riddler had said, was useless. She wondered if trying to bring him back and hold his image was as futile a device as paper lost in the wind.

"_Reminiscence is quite literally the bane of my existence."_Edward's words echoed like an old fashioned record in Harley's brain, the sound scrubbing from where the needle hit, his voice becoming high and lilting. It was as unnatural a sound to match the insanity that overthrew her brain from that night on.

"_The past is the past._" There was no use reflecting on it, no need to bring it back, it was simply that the Joker was the past; he was no more, so now he would be gone. His memory would be buried like ash in the wind, shells in the sand, forever to disappear and never be found again. Her chest screamed at the thought, feeling like a dagger was being slammed into her heart. The pounding and hammering increased as the thought of him worsened, became real and material and standing in front of her.

"_You're better off without him."_Pamela's voice cooed, the soft tickle of her vines seeming to pin Harley to the bed with the steaming recollection. Whispers of red hair painted her mind. The words branded her brain like molten iron. There was no give, no bend or take, Ivy was absolute in her belief. But who was Harley without the Joker? She had been a henchwench, a sidekick, nothing more. She was not even Harleen Quinzel any longer. The person who had made her who she was—her other half—was gone, and she had been taken along with him.

Harley knew very well that you did not need to be lying in a grave to be dead.

"_It is too late to save your lover."_Victor Fries' words had hurt more than anything. His hope stood frozen and hidden from him, but it was there. His will to go on was dedicated to healing Nora, to break her from her ice prison, and save nothing for himself. His life was hers and Nora had known it. Harley's life had been the Joker. Her life was no more.

"_With him, you will find nothing but misery and death as far as the eye can see."_Death had clouded her vision ever since he had left. The cold abyss, the touch of its cruel mistress's hand had caressed her ever so gently as she slept. It was a fate she couldn't escape, nothing could erase it and everything felt like a bad dream. Jonathan Crane, even the monster that he was, had been right in the end.

The pillow seemed to cushion her head as delicately as granite as she tried to find comfort in something—_anything._The feeling did not come. Her blonde tresses splayed out on the comforter as she pulled it up to her chin as she did when she was a child.

Her mother used to smooth out her curls and push her bangs from her eyes, telling her there were no such thing as monsters. And even if there were, what good was pulling the blanket up to cover her neck? It wasn't as if it was a shield, it was a pathetic defense, and her mother's words did nothing to calm her. There was no man of the house—her daddy had left her without a glance behind him at the terrified daughter he left behind. Harley had never been able to protect herself, even as a sniveling child. It had been right for her to fall in love with a monster. At least the beast she had loved had protected her from the others—if only for a little while.

But now he was gone and she was vulnerable. She tucked herself in with the sheet as if it were her last line of defense, her only go-to left to take. She held on for dear life and let the tears seep from the corners of her eyes, feeling the misery begin to widen the hole in her abdomen.

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her as material as her own hand. Her own eyes saw him, lighting up with unrestrained joy. Her mind was deceiving her into believing, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Slowly, her voice managed to creep up through her chest and out through her throat.

"Puddin'…" She called softly to the image, wondering if he could hear her. His lips twisted in a smile and his usually vibrant hair seemed much grayer and dull than it had in real life. Tears continued to slide down her cheeks as she clutched at the blanket drawn up to her chin. Small squeaks wracked her body as her mind was steadily pulled from its confines, vines seeming to ensnare her sanity in their scornful wrath.

The illusion took one more step forward and his image intoxicated her without speaking a word. The lone memory of his smile caused her eyes to roll back into her head, passing into a state of unconscious remembrance, her whole body shaking and heaving with the pain of it.

_Words strained against her ears as slick silver of the knife in the Joker's hands. Harley stood on the far side of the room with her arms crossed, leaning against the door jam. She idly toyed with the collar of her harlequin uniform. After fiddling with that, she reached up to straighten the tassels of her cap. She let out a breathy sigh as she watched her boyfriend do business with the most terrifying serial killer in all of Gotham._

_Victor Zsasz could have possibly been considered a handsome man by some poor slut at some point in his previous life, she thought absently. Harley's blue eyes gave the hunchbacked man a once-over and decided at once he was not worth a second of her time. That, and the fact he was incapacitatingly terrifying to the porcelain-skinned young girl. Where Mistah J killed for thrills, this man replaced those merciful laughs with the mind numbing and pointless slaughtering of masses without so much as a good reason._

_His eyes harbored an evil that the Joker's had never possessed._

_She had asked Joker not to take her there time and time again; sometimes she figured he did it purely to evoke her utter discomfort in the matter. He liked the way she would stand and squirm awkwardly in the doorway as he and Zsasz talked about this and that—she never really knew, nor paid enough attention to why the Joker would consider spending time with the mindless, whiney thug—and wait for him to tell her it was time to go. She'd walk from the door as usual, sparing a last glance at the lunatic who was staring at her as well, examining her with a scrutiny she feared and could only compare to the lust in the eyes of wild hounds that had been starved for days._

_This time was no different. It played out the same way, her standing uncertainly against a wall as they chatted, her gaze drifting listlessly around his apartment._

_Then suddenly it all changed. The Joker's phone began to ring in his pocket, an eerily perfect ring for the Clown Prince of Crime. He idly looked over to Harley and gave her a nod and walked from the room, answering the cell in an annoyed tone. The girl watched him go, protests rising in her throat and bubbling from her lips, none of which he listened to before he was finally too far away to hear her fruitless calls. She quickly shut her lips when she noticed her whimpers had drawn the wrong sort of attention to herself, finding herself under the scrutiny of Victor Zsasz. She tried to ignore the immediate reaction of anxiety he drew from her, and she turned away, pretending as if he were not in the room._

_But when a soft, hissing sound that could have never been mistaken for laughter filled her ears, his presence was the only thing she could focus on._

_She didn't need to turn her head more than a fraction of an inch, and suddenly she found herself cheek to cheek with the madman himself._

"_Hello, Miss-ssss Quinzel," Victor hissed, choking off in a cough in the middle of her name. Harley couldn't help but try to move away from him in a futile effort, finding her back already pressed against the wall. Uncertainty bubbling up in her stomach, she pulled her lower lip through her teeth, smearing the red and leaving stains on her pearly whites._

"_V-Victor," she stammered and eluded his cloudy gaze. She looked everywhere but his eyes in fear of what demons she would see hidden there. His skin was a nearly transparent gray color, tinted a jaundiced beige, and covered in scars. When she had been his therapist back at Arkham, she had known the atrocities he had committed, and the self-mutilation he practiced when the acts were done. Whole families, men, women, children—the man obviously did not discriminate. His skin, and the scars, were proof. Each tally mark represented a scream, a plea, a lost life. Harley wondered how many children had looked into the same cloudy gray eyes before they had died, wailing, at his hands. The thought made her sick to her stomach._

"_You're looking a little pail, my sss-ssssweetling," his movements were jerky and almost violent. When he reached up a hand to hover it above her cheek, she had worried for a moment that he was suffering a convulsion. But that worry was soon replaced by fear that the man would actually_touch _her. His fingers trembled as they rested gently upon her grease-painted skin. She let out a quiet squeak, and quickly clammed up when she saw the smile cross Victor's lips in response. "Do I ssss-sscare you?"_

"_No," she replied, realizing that at least when she looked down at his bare feet, it was easier to keep her voice in control. She noted silently that there were only four marks on his left foot, and two on his right. When she took a breath, the air smelled like his body odor. She couldn't even begin to guess when he had last taken a shower._

"_Are you sssure?" He pressed further, "Iss it the marksss? They scare most people, so it'sss really okay." His smile was a lopsided effort, and she couldn't even be sure that's what he was trying to do. For all she knew, it was nothing more than a facial spasm. But something told her he was smiling at her squimishness. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Her fingers toyed nervously with the spandex clinging to her thighs._

"_Please. I'm not really in the mood ta' talk." Even to Harley, the plea sounded whiney and desperate._

"_That's odd, you normally ssseem like ssuch a chatterbox at your home," he coughed and sputtered. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers and her brows rose so high they nearly touched her hairline._

"_M-my home?"_

"_Yes, the apartment complex that you live in, suite 203. Second floor. Third door on the left. You go home and frequently try to engage the Joker in conversation, and he often denies you—"_

"_What?!" Harley's voice rose to a shriek. Her blood turned to icy slush in her veins._

"_Pardon me, I only asssumed that you would be open to sssocializing, I was trying to relate…as my therapist, you once told me that wasss an important thing to do. Relating, and…such."_

"_Y-yes, I, I-I mean no—I'm not your therapist!—well, a-anymore. I'm—how do you know where we live?" Trembles. Quivers. Shakes. Call it anything, Harley Quinn was petrified._

_This time, it was clear that Zsasz was smiling._

"_I know lots of things, Missss Quinzel. Things you wouldn't want me knowing I'm sure—now, I'm just noticing, you're a very pretty girl, but you're a zombie…just like all of them," his nails scraped along her skin and she gave a shuddering whimper._

"_Zombie?" Her squeak was utterly pitiful._

"_You do as he says. You follow him like a mindless whore, and don't even seek liberation. Your life is nothing—it's forfeit without him, don't you see? He ssets out on a path, a plan, a direction, and you do nothing but listen to him without a word. In fact, you enjoy following him!" His eyes lit up as he spoke, and Harley could feel his hot breath on her face. She squished up her nose as his body pressed against her, and her quivers were quelled by sheer pressure against her. Her hips were pressed against the wall, and her whimpers couldn't be heard. "He killsss, he laughssss, and he delightssss—and what do you do? The sssame."_

"_S-stop, don't touch me-e—"_

"_Have you ever killed, Harleen?"_

"_Yes, I—" More squirming. Even more futile than the last time. His hips pushed harder, more uncomfortably, against her. He was enjoying—he was amused, aroused—by her squeaks and shrill protests. In all the years she had known him, this was the most likeness that Harleen had ever felt to one of Zsasz's victims. One of the marks on his body._

_For once, Harley felt like she might be reduced to nothing but a scar on flesh—and that would be her legacy._

_Mistah J was in the other room, why wasn't he rescuing her?_

_Would no prince charming come to her aid?_

_No, she was on her own…_

"_Have. You. Ever. Killed?" Zsasz spat again, his cheek pressing against her cheek, his lips brushing her ear._

"_I said yes!"_

"_No, I mean _**_really _**_killed, sssssweetling. There's a difference between killing—and _**_killing_**_."_

"_There's not, death is the same, ya' end up in the same place. I answered you, now let me go!" Her pleas fell on deaf ears._

"_When I kill, it'ss different than how your…darling doess."_

"_Well, duh—you're a psychopath! My Puddin' is kinder than—"_

"_I wouldn't go that far, necesssssarily. Funnnier, perhaps, but certainly not kinder. I think of myssself as a liberator, for all you zombies trapped in your cages of humanity…I ssssset you free, don't you understand? When I _**_kill_**_, it's a very perssssonal experience. As death often is. It's intimate, and sometimessss I even feel like I'm intruding when I watch them die…but after awhile, you get over it. It becomes a memory you treasure, knowing that you're their ssssavior."_

"_You sick bastard, get away from me." Her protests were now out of disgust and pure revulsion. All the talk of killing was making her sick. In fact, she feared she might vomit. She quivered and tried to ignore him to no avail._

"_Kill, death, it's all so intimate. You've never _**_killed_**_—you're a virgin! I can see. It's easy to tell. Your preciousss Joker has _**_killed_**_. He's no virgin. But he only lets you ssseeee when he…'kills' in the sssofter form. You've never seen the evil in him. But I can, because I am the same ssssort of evil, ssssweetling. It's not a hard thing to do, in theory. Plunge the knife in, twist, pull it out. Repeat. But that's only 'killing', not _**_killing_**_. It takes feeling, you have to empathize with the victim as they die. You have to know what you're doing is a dirty, vile thing, but the important fact that you can't ignore is that it feelsss good! It does, don't deny it once you've tried it! Touch the victim, really do it, feel who they are and the very essence of their being fade out with every sssslash…every sssstab…every sssstab liberatess them—"_

_One second, Zsasz was on top of her, and the next he was sprawled flat on his face on the ground. The Joker stood, staring at Harley. Words bubbled up in her throat as she searched for something to say, desperately trying to read his expression. He was blank._

"_M-Mistah J, I, thank you…" she whispered, her brain short circuiting for words to say. Sweat clung to her, smearing the grease paint on her face, and she certainly felt very dirty in front of him. After that monster had pressed against her, she feared she would never feel clean, pure, or chaste in front of him again._

_The Joker wordlessly offered her his hand. She stared at it like it was a dog about to bite her._

"_Let's go, Harley. I've finished my business here," his eyes were authoritative, and Harley didn't have it in her to question him. She placed her still trembling hand in his, and stepped over Zsasz's body, which she saw was beginning to shake on the floor. Not with laughter, but with tears. She tore her eyes away and pressed herself to the Joker's side, who put his arm around her without hesitation._

"_Missssss Quinzel…" Victor hissed from the floor one last time before they were out of the door. She froze, but didn't turn around to look at him as his final words haunted her. "When you do finally _**_kill_**_, be sure not to use a gun. Use a knife, and promise me that you'll make it personal…"_

For the first time in weeks, Harley slept through the night—and she dreamt.

She saw Batman drowning in blood, and a knife in her hand.

There was a single tally mark on her forearm.

In her dreams, Harley had **killed**.

* * *

_Counting bodies like sheep_

_To the rhythm of the war drums_

_Go back to sleep_

* * *

**A/N: **Heh, honestly, I've barely even taken a second look at what I've written, but for those of you who were slightly confused…

Zsasz talks of _'killing'_ which is basically his idea of non-morbid/disgusting/gratuitous homicide.

When he says **killing**, he means repulsive, revenge driven, purposeful, systematic way of serial killing done in a possibly morbid, disrespectful manner.

He considers **killing** to be the most pure form of liberation, because it adds a little something different to the otherwise monotonous lives of 'zombies' (aka: his victims)

I hope that wasn't too confusing…I tried to make sense of the mind of a madman, so it was meant for you guys to get a little lost in translation…

Because he is insane, guys. Probably the most insane out of all the Arkham inmates. So, I tried to convey him as such.

Also, I enunciated his 'sssss's because although he doesn't have a lisp or anything, his voice has always seemed eerie and very hiss-y and almost very calm and otherwise uninterrupted, besides when he says his 's' words verrrry quietly and real creepy like…

So basically I did that for effect.

This is me, explaining my writing to you guys, even though you probably understand.

I'm utterly ridiculous, I know.

Okay, I'm gonna…go pass out now, because I'm exhausted. G'night kittens, have lovely dreams that aren't filled with blood or murderers… :3


	16. Liqour Lips

**A/N: **Thanks to all my WONDERFUL reviewers, I love you all so much. :) I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well, I know I said I'd bring in a new villain, and this is...take a guess...yet another Riddley chapter! (I just seriously cannot stay away from that man. It's not possible. I love torturing him too much. Uh.)

Next chapter I'll bring in the new villian...

The Penguin! :D

So, for now, enjoy this brief, fluffy/angsty Riddley/Harley romance chapter. (I'M OBSESSED, OKAY? Just leave me be with this pairing, I love them, too much for my own sanity.)

* * *

_I lay back in a glittery mist, and I_

_I think of all the men, I_

_I could have kissed_

* * *

Illogical.

Irrational.

He couldn't explain his feelings, and neither could she.

"Eddie, I…" Harley's lips formed a perfect oval, her lipstick seeming to be the shade of blood in the moonlight. Her hands trembled as they touched his chest, delicately curling into fists on his bare skin. She had stopped polishing them red and now only black coated her fingers.

Edward Nigma's expression could only be described as utterly confused. He was a man with a plan, a man of careful formulating, and a practiced hand with a calendar—and Harley's intrusion had been completely unannounced and unpredictable.

Her tirade had begun with bursting through his front door.

When he had been in the shower.

She simply didn't care.

"Eddie!" She had shrieked, tearing through his house, wet mascara trailing down her cheeks in vicious claw-like streaks. Her back teeth grit together to prevent herself from letting out whimpers as she rampaged, knocking over furniture, picture frames, whatever was in her way as she went. Her episode was much like the destruction that hurricanes wrought. Cleaning up was certainly going to be an ordeal.

* * *

_I don't really wanna know what's good for me_

_God's dead, I said 'baby that's alright with me'_

* * *

"Eddie, where are ya'?!" She shouted as she went, rushing through the house in an entirely erratic and irrational pattern without a systematic thought in her mind. He wasn't in the kitchen, living room, or in his study. That left the bedroom. She barely gave it a second thought before bursting through the door to his room and when she saw he was nowhere in the dark room she headed to the bathroom.

"EDDIE?!" She threw open the handle and heard the disgruntled curses of her friend through the shower curtain. Steam from the heat of the water fogged up the mirror and the sound of splashing filled her ears.

"Harley? Harley—what the hell? My God—_you just barged in!?—_what are you doing here?" He sputtered, poking his head out from inside while water continued to pour from the spigot. His auburn hair seemed a few shades darker from the wetness that plastered it to his head. Droplets slid down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He tried his best to pull the curtain around his waist in a modest and self-conscious gesture.

"I'm all alone, Ed, I'm all alone!" Harley cried out with no preamble. Without warning, she fell to the floor, her fluffy black lace dress pooling into waves around her knees on the freezing tile. Tears gushed furiously from her baby blues' and her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap, pulling at the see-through fabric that revealed the pale ivory of her thighs. When she tilted her round face up to look at the stunned man in front of her, she couldn't help the aura of depression that radiated from her.

Immediately, Edward abruptly turned off the water running from the shower head and blindly reached for a towel on the rack beside him. He tied it comfortably around his waist and stepped out, instantly kneeling down beside the blonde.

"Tell me what's wrong." There was no more questioning as to why she was there—it was as simple as the time she had called to him, crying, on the phone. She needed him, and he was there.

He was there for her in the way the Joker never was.

Harley began to feel sick to her stomach. She knew she was using him, and she hated herself because of it.

But she couldn't bring herself to stop running to him.

* * *

_You got that medicine I need_

_Fame, liquor, love give it to me slowly_

_Put your hands on my waist, do it softly_

* * *

"H-he's gone, an' I've got _nobody_, Eddie! There's no one to come home to, no one to hold, no one to kiss, and everything feels so empty," she sobbed, slumping her shoulders into him. Without hesitation, she pressed her head into the damp skin of his neck, feeling the cool of the water mix with the heat from his body against her cheeks. She felt him draw in an uneasy breath. He had always been uncomfortable with affection, and she felt selfish asking him for something he was so insecure about.

"Don't be foolish. You have friends. Selina, _Pamela_," she could feel his teeth grind together when he said her name, "and me." Harley's tiny arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him closer, practically on top of her. He drew in a small gasp as her body molded to fit perfectly to his, and he tried his best to control himself. The towel suddenly felt very thin separating them.

"F-friends…I'm not talking about _friends_…" she whispered, lips brushing down his neck. She felt him shiver against her, as much as he tried to cover it up with a deep breath.

"Then what are you talking about? I will admit, it's a bit of a convoluted situation to come here saying you're alone, and really, why you're over here—in my bathroom of all places—in the first place—"

When her mouth closed over his, his words were silenced.

* * *

_Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control_

_'cause really, I adore you and I can't leave you alone._

_Fed up with the fantasies, they cover what is wrong._

* * *

At first, he didn't kiss her back. The gesture was so foreign, so unbelievable that it caught him off guard. He had always tried not to think of her in any other way besides 'the Joker's girlfriend,' because he wasn't allowed to feel any more than a platonic tolerance. As of late though, with the Joker gone, she had been the fuel to all his fantasies. All his urges. Now his control was slipping, and Harley could feel it. She took advantage of it.

The Riddler couldn't bring himself to care.

Only a moment of quick shock passed and his mouth opened willingly to hers and he drew her even closer, winding his spindly arms around her. One of his hands rested on the small of her back while the other twisted in her hair. Hair that he noted was worn natural—it had always been his preferred style on her, as opposed to those ridiculous pigtails—around her shoulders. Since the bleach that she used to dye it with was nearly grown out, it was mostly a soft chestnut brown that started from the roots. Even with the smeared make-up and tattered dress, he thought she was absolutely beautiful. Compliments were not something the Riddler enjoyed giving out, and to admit to himself that he thought Harley resembled an angel in the fluorescent light of the bathroom was a foreign thought that he hadn't prepared himself for.

This was why the Riddler always planned.

Because if he didn't, then he lost control.

He pushed her lips open further with his tongue and laid her down on the bathroom floor, hands resting gently on her hips, pulling at the fabric of her dress in a compulsive manner. His breathing increased in weight and rapidity and he suddenly felt like there was a massive weight crushing his chest. He pulled back, blinking quickly, and stared at her with his jaw dropped open in stunned disbelief.

"Eddie, I…" he was brought back to reality by the sweet sound of her voice. It was sickeningly sugary, like syrup, heavy with undeniable arousal. Her pupils were dilated and her hands rested in tiny fists on his chest. He couldn't help but notice his towel was beginning to slip away from his waist. Abruptly, he pushed off of her.

"This needs to stop. Now." Not seconds later, he was off the floor and away from her, straightening the linen around his hips. His eyes were narrowed almost suspiciously and his nose slanted down, a droplet of water dripping off the tip and onto the floor. Harley studied him closely, sitting up while she did so. She ran a finger along her lips, feeling where his had been just a moment ago. Red gloss was smeared now, touching the skin of her upper and lower lips. Her hand trembled as she laid it back down in her lap, eyes finding solace on the damp surface of Edward's chest. It rose and fell every few seconds; heavy inhalations.

* * *

_You don't love me, big fucking deal_

_I'll never tell you how I feel._

* * *

"Why?" Innocence tainted her tone and made it nearly impossible for the man to look at her.

"Because I can't…" When Harley looked at him, she saw the instability in his form. His knees were locked into place and his hands shook as he ran them through his hair. His thin lips looked more enticing to her than they ever had before. "I can't. I just can't."

"Eddie, you're not making any—"

"Don't call me that right now. Just, don't say anything." He turned away from her, irritation coloring his features. Hammering in her chest, Harley feared that her heart might give out when she saw the expression on his face.

She had hurt him.

She hadn't meant to.

* * *

_It almost feels like a joke to play out the part,_

_when you are not the starring role in someone else's heart._

* * *

Poising her lips to say something, she thought better of it and closed her mouth. Instead, she stood up, straightening her dress, and walked closer to him. She hovered behind him while he faced the wall, eyes closed and breathing slowly. He didn't seem to notice she was there. Impulsively she laid a hand on his shoulder and felt him tense, gaining a wince from her. Still, she said nothing. Over the years of abuse, she had learned to do what she was told.

"You don't understand, do you?" He asked quietly after a moment. She furrowed her brows, putting wrinkles in the porcelain skin of her forehead.

"Understand what?"

"That you can't use people just because you're hurting."

Silence.

"I…" All that she could manage was a soft croak. Words weren't working. Her throat wasn't responding. Everything began to ache in her body with the lethargy of the truth. She knew that was what she had been doing all along. That was where the Riddler was wrong: she did understand.

"I know, Eddie," she mumbled, her voice barely an octave above a whisper. "Believe me, I understand."

"Then why do you keep coming to me?" This time, he turned to her to speak. His green eyes looked more vulnerable than she had ever hoped to see before. Hope sparkled in them, and more than anything, she saw the pain. She saw the hurt that she had caused him and it brought more tears to her eyes.

"Because I know that you care about me," she whimpered. Tears spilled over and she began to cry again, as childish as it was. There were no filters in her mind anymore. It was just emotion, raw feeling, and impulse. Her mind no longer obeyed what she wanted it to—it took orders from her heart. Her heart was a very dangerous place.

"Don't," he warned quietly.

"You care about me—I know it, Eddie, I _know _you do!" Her voice rose in pitch as she protested.

"Shut up, Harley."

"That's why you kissed me!"

"_You_ kissed _me_!"

"It doesn't matter. I know how you feel, Eddie, and I—" Suddenly he whirled around and his hands were on her shoulders. He grabbed her, nails digging into her skin, and pushed her against the wall, irritation on his face. His eyes lit up with everything he felt inside—pure organized chaos. His hands gripped her tighter but Harley said nothing. She stared at him, eyes wide with terror, lips quivering in a pout as she tried not to cry. Immediately, he realized he had scared her, and loosened his grip. He backed away slowly, the embarrassment in his eyes apology enough.

"And you what, Harley? You what? What could you possibly have to say to make this better?"

Silence.

Her eyes watered slightly with the sudden urge for a confession.

Her lips pursed and her hands rested lightly on his waist when he didn't protest.

"I care about you too, Eddie," she whispered, and his attempts at self-preservation were instantly over.

* * *

_If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?_

* * *

He slumped against her, his whole body trembling with exhaustion. His lips caressed her shoulder gently, hands shaking as they take on a mind of their own, searching for her hips to hold.

Finally, Harley was able to feel accepted.

She reached out for him, pulling him tight against her. He had never been a terribly weak man, but he had always been a coward. Afraid to be outcast. Afraid to lose. So horribly afraid to hold onto anything that he obsessed over what he had.

And what he didn't.

She felt his lips kiss her shoulder, and she gently ran a hand through his hair, inwardly wondering which one of them needed the comfort of the other the most.

"Do you really…" he began softly, murmuring against the fragile skin of her neck as his lips crept upward. He trailed off, but she knew he was asking for reassurance.

* * *

_Come on, baby, let's just get drunk, forget we don't get on_

* * *

"Yeah, Eddie. I care about you…I do," she whispered against his damp hair, dropping a tender kiss above his temple. She felt him exhale gratefully with a sigh, gathering her into his arms in his own way of awkward affection.

Harley knew deception was a sin, and she tried to fool herself into believing that her feelings for Edward were real.

Deep down she knew she was still just using him.

But she could not bring herself to stop.

"Can I…stay here tonight?" She mumbled into his ear, trailing her fingers along his spine, feeling him shiver against her. He tensed for a moment, and she could practically feel his mind searching for the correct answer. The right answer. The Riddler answer.

"Yes," he said.

Harley had never hated herself as much as she did in that moment.

* * *

_I chew you up and I spit you out,_

_'Cause that's what your love is all about._

_So pull me closer and kiss me hard,_

_I'm gonna pop your bubblegum heart._

* * *

**A/N: **I am incapable of writing any story without romance. I figured this story needed some obvious romance. But this was more...romance + angst, because technically, it's not "romance" for Harley. It's more of an affectionate substitute to take her mind off Mistah J.

Next time is the Penguin, don't worry. This is pretty much gonna be the end of the Riddley/Harley romance arc for this story...we're winding down to the finale, so...YAY!

Also, all the song lyrics in this were from Marina and the Diamonds, and Lana Del Ray. (I own nothing, as usual- **disclaimer**)


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